


The Boy and the Mutt

by atetheredmind (s_e_irvine)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_e_irvine/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Katniss finds it increasingly impossible to perform as the Mockingjay during the rebellion, the unscrupulous Coin takes drastic measures to bring Peeta back to her. But Katniss soon learns there's something not quite write with this Peeta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part I of II. Written for Prompts in Panem Day 2 (sin: greed).

When Katniss opens her eyes, she knows immediately that she must have fallen asleep while crying: her eyes are heavy and swollen, grit making it hard to see.

But it doesn't shroud the sight of Haymitch's scowl when she rolls over in her bed. Despite her grogginess, she frowns reflexively.

"Morning, sweetheart. Have a good nap?"

The previous events come flooding back to her then, and she curls up farther under the sheets, burrowing her face into her pillow. It's the stiff, anesthetic-scented sheets of the District 13 hospital. They must have moved her in here after her breakdown over Peeta during her latest propo video. No amount of consolation from Haymitch could subdue her hysterical sobbing once she realized the torture he must be enduring in the Capitol for her sake, and they eventually injected her with some sedative to knock her out. Her muscles already ache from disuse; she wonders how long they kept her out for.

She decides to ask.

"How long was I asleep?" Her voice is gravelly and weak.

"Three days."

She's surprised by this, and she tries to blink the sleep from her eyes. "Why...so long?"

Haymitch leans back in his chair, scratching at the graying scruff on his chin. "Dunno. Guess they wanted to keep you out of commission so you'd be as little of a distraction as possible."

"Distraction from what?" she asks, though she's not sure she cares. If Coin and the others wanted her out of the way, she was fine with that; she didn't have the energy to play the Mockingjay and pretend things were fine. They weren't fine.

At that, Haymitch finally smiles wryly, but there's a latent bitterness behind his eyes. "Rescue mission to the Capitol. They went to retrieve Peeta, specifically for you. I think they were tired of your whinin'. I know I was," he says drily, but she ignores the jab, struggling to sit up in bed.

"Rescue—Peeta?" she gasps, her arms trembling slightly as she pushes her weight off the mattress. Her heart starts to race, and it throbs almost painfully against her sternum. "Why didn't—why didn't they let me go? I could have helped!"

He snorts. "What would you have done? Cried on Snow's pretty white blazer?" He waves a hand dismissively. "Coin never would have agreed to let you go. Hell, she wouldn't let  _any_ of us go," he grouses. Katniss frowns.

"What do you mean? Who else?"

"Me. Gale. Finnick. They were the first to volunteer, but she refused. Didn't want to risk her star assets or some such bullshit. It was Boggs' idea, but she told him to stay behind, too. I don't even know the soldiers she sent on the mission. A bunch of ass-kissing bootlickers, I'm sure."

Katniss is barely listening anymore. Blood rushes in her ears. For the first time in weeks, she feels...hope? She tries to swallow the foreign feeling, her stomach twisting with nerves. She finally looks at Haymitch again. "D'you...do you think they'll succeed?" She's afraid to even think it, to fantasize about the idea that, in a matter of days or hours even, she could have Peeta back…

But Haymitch sighs heavily. "Guess we'll find out, sweetheart."

She doesn't leave her bed after that point while she waits for news on the rescue; Finnick joins her, and they spend hours distracting themselves with rope, tying knots and unraveling them. He's worried about Annie, too. Gale sits with them for a little bit, simmering with resentment that Coin refused him on the rescue team, but he knows he can offer them little in the way of comfort so he eventually slinks away. It's not his loved ones, after all. Katniss and Finnick barely speak, even to each other, and she isn't sure how much time passes before Haymitch finally bursts through the door. The two of them immediately turn to him, the question scrawled on their faces. The older man looks troubled, and her stomach sinks.

"Did they—?" She can't finish the question, unsure of what to ask first.

But Haymitch nods. "Plutarch informed me they were back. They got Peeta."

Katniss can barely breathe with the way her heart lodges itself in her throat. He's safe; Peeta is safe, and he's here in District 13. With her. A maniacal grin splits her face in two, but it falls immediately when Finnick asks the next question.

"And Annie?"

Haymitch's face is grim, and he shakes his head. "They said they only got Peeta. Something went wrong on the mission, and they had to abort," he explains quietly.

Katniss thinks she actually sees Finnick's heart break. For a moment, she forgets her own happiness and relief. "Oh, Finnick—" But he shakes his head, forcing a small smile in place. It doesn't match his eyes.

"Don't worry about me, Katniss. Go to him."

With one last look at him, she crawls off the bed and follows Haymitch out the door, wobbling slightly, but he grips her arm to help her. She's grateful he's there to guide her because she's not sure she'd make it on her own; her knees feel weak already, her head light from the rush of excitement and anxiety. What kind of state will she find him in? Is he hurt? Sick? Near death? Will he be happy to see her? Will he be angry that she was rescued and he wasn't? What if he refuses to speak to her?

She pushes the thought away immediately. Peeta wouldn't reject her, no matter what. He'll be so relieved to see her. Her cheeks start to hurt from the smile she can't fight as she imagines running into his arm. Will he greet her with a kiss? Will it be like the last one on the beach? She's already tingling with anticipation when Haymitch steers her into another hospital room a few hallways down from her own. A few nurses and doctors surround the bed, blocking Peeta from her view, and she feels a flash of irritation that they're standing in her way.

But the crowd parts at her arrival, silence falling among the hospital staff, and Katniss stops breathing.

It's Peeta, all pale skin and blonde curls. He's beautiful, even more beautiful than she remembers; he looks healthier somehow, healthier than in his last disheveled appearance with Caesar, but she thinks she must just be that excited to see him. Of course, he would look more perfect to her than usual; it's been weeks,  _months_ almost.

His blue eyes are foggy, and he sits on the edge of the bed, dazed as he takes in his surroundings. She stands frozen in the doorway, but when he finally turns his gaze on her, she practically buckles. "Peeta," she breathes out; he blinks, once, twice, an opaque blankness filming his eyes until it gives way to recognition.

"Katniss," he whispers, and she releases a sob before lunging across the room, throwing herself into his arms. He catches her, unsteadily, but he folds her into his embrace, and her lips are on his face, finding purchase on any exposed skin she can. She can hear the relieved, amused murmurings of the hospital staff around them, but she can't be bothered with their presence. Peeta murmurs her name against her cheeks, her forehead, her lips, as if he's reciting a prayer, and soon she's crying and hiccuping with delirium. She can feel and taste his own salty tears, but then he's laughing and squeezing her. Their limbs are so tangled together, the doctors have to practically extricate her from his lap; she resists at first, her jagged fingernails nicking their hands and necks as she lashes out, but they eventually assure her they just need to run some more tests on Peeta. It isn't until he soothingly kisses her forehead, as if sealing his return to her, that she releases him.

Still, she refuses to leave the room.

"Get me a chair. I'm not going anywhere," she snarls. The nurses share conspiratorial glances with each other, but one pushes a chair up next to Peeta's bed, where Katniss proceeds to curl up, her eyes glued to the prostrate form of the boy before her while the doctors check his eyes, his blood pressure, the rest of his body.

He is surprisingly free of any marks or wounds or any physical evidence of his imprisonment in the Capitol. Katniss is amazed but grateful he was spared. She can only hope the same for Annie and Johanna, but she doesn't dwell long on the thought. Peeta keeps his eyes trained on her as the doctors examine him, an awed smile gracing his lips; she doesn't look away, even when Haymitch clears his throat and offers some mumbled greeting and apology to Peeta.

Peeta is confused by the other man's words. "Sorry for what?"

Katniss shoots Haymitch a dirty look.  _Sorry for abandoning you; for lying to you and reneging on our deal to protect the girl_ —that's what he should say, but Haymitch clamps up.

"We'll talk later, kid. Just...take it easy for now," he says, a peculiar tone to his command, but then he slips away.

Eventually, the doctors and nurses do, too, and Katniss is allowed to climb into bed with him—though, she's not so much  _allowed_ as she just doesn't bother asking for permission. Peeta welcomes her readily, but they don't speak for a while. She can tell he's exhausted and weak. Finally, she can't hold her tongue anymore.

"Peeta," she whispers quietly above the humming of the machines he's hooked up to. She hesitates but blurts out the rest of her query haltingly, "What did they do to you...in the Capitol?"

Peeta's hand tightens around her arm, and she hears him take a deep breath before exhaling loudly. He waits a moment to answer, and even before he speaks, she can feel his palpable confusion.

"I can't...remember."

* * *

It soon becomes clear that Peeta can't recall any of his time in the Capitol after he was captured. The doctors call it retrograde amnesia.

"It's likely the trauma from his time in imprisonment caused some memory loss; his brain could be blocking out his experiences in the Capitol," her mother explains to her quietly one night in their compartment when Katniss is forced away from Peeta's side so he can rest, or so the doctors tell her. Mrs. Everdeen is quiet for a moment before adding, "It's probably a good thing he can't remember, if it was that bad."

Katniss shudders in her bed at the thought. She decides not to push Peeta on it.

But she can't help thinking, and wondering. During her visits, when she lies beside him as he sleeps, she can't resist looking him over, gingerly running her hands over the planes of his body under his clothes, looking for any sign of his imprisonment. All she finds is smooth skin and light downy hair and the metallic of his prosthetic leg; even all his baking scars are gone, polished away by the Capitol prior to the last games. He's perfect, absolutely perfect.

She doesn't understand it, but she's grateful, grateful he didn't have to suffer more than he already has.

She holds him tighter while he sleeps, listening to his even breaths, echoed by the staccato rhythm of his heart in her ear beating out a comforting mantra:  _He's_ _ **safe**_ _, he's_ _ **safe**_ _, he's_ _ **safe**_ _._

* * *

Coin only waits two days before visiting Katniss and Peeta in the hospital. She's upheld her end of the bargain in retrieving Peeta; now she expects Katniss to do the same.

As much as she dislikes the woman, Katniss knows she owes her. And she doesn't like owing people. The sooner she can wipe out the red from her ledger, the better. She's almost happy to continue making the propos at this point. She feels revitalized with Peeta's return.

"What do you need me to do?" she asks, still guarded despite her acquiescence. Coin fixes her with a pleased look.

"We'll finish the propo you started filming with Soldier Hawthorne and Soldier Odair, prior to your...episode."

Katniss nods. "Peeta will come too, right?"

Coin's face hardens, and she shakes her head. "No. Patient Mellark is not fit for duty at this point in time."

Katniss is already scowling, leaning forward in her chair next to Peeta's bed. "But—"

Coin doesn't let her finish. "It's not up for discussion, Soldier Everdeen. You're needed in the field, but Mellark needs to rest. We don't want to risk overexerting him already."

Katniss wants to argue further, but she risks a glance at Peeta, which is her undoing. He shrugs, a small smile in place. "It's okay, Katniss. I feel fine, but...she's probably right. Do what you need to do. I'm not going anywhere." He's almost teasing her, a glint in his eye. She's hesitant to leave him—what if something happens to him while she's away? what if she loses him again?—but she knows she has no choice.

"You better not," she warns, leaning over his bed to hug him. She wants to kiss him, but she can feel Coin's watchful eye, so she pulls away, gazing at Peeta one last time before she follows the older woman out of the room.

She hasn't seen Gale since Peeta's return; she knows he's been avoiding her, but she hasn't really wanted to talk to him either, if she's being honest with herself. She's entirely wrapped up in Peeta, and he just doesn't understand. She's glad the war can keep him busy; it's a good outlet for his rage. She's feeling a lot less of that these days.

She feels a million miles away as they walk through the bombed-out remains of the surface above District 13, the camera crew trailing them. Finnick hangs back, sensing the two need a moment.

"How's Peeta?" Gale asks finally, his voice quiet. She shrugs but doesn't look at him.

"Fine, I guess," she replies hesitantly, but then she adds, "You can talk to him if you want. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a visitor."

Gale snorts, shaking his head. "I doubt that," he mumbles. "I'm not sure he'd like to hear how I was unable to save his family in the bombing back home."

Katniss freezes then, an iciness settling in her stomach. "Oh, no," she whispers, turning to him. How could she forget? "He doesn't—I don't think he knows yet. About—about home, about his family."

Gale looks shocked by this, stunned into silence. "Shit," he finally whispers, and she covers her face, suddenly feeling exposed under the cameras trained on her. How is she going to tell him? No one else has yet, she has to assume; Peeta hasn't mentioned it at all.

They wrap up their filming after an hour; Katniss is too distracted by thoughts of Peeta, dreading having to inform him about his family, and Cressida finally concedes defeat on getting anything worthwhile from her for the propo. The elevator ride back underground feels like an eternity, and she returns to his hospital room immediately. He looks happy to see her, but his face falls when he takes in her expression.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? What happened?" he fires off, making to get out of his bed, but she waves him back down, moving closer.

"Peeta…" she murmurs nervously. "I don't...I don't know how to tell you this. I don't know if anyone's told you yet but...after, after the arena—after I blew it up, Snow...he sent bombs to District 12. It's...gone. The entire town." She swallows thickly, watching his face. "You...your family, they...they didn't make it."

Peeta blinks, sitting down heavily on his bed. His face is pale but mostly expressionless as he digests the news. "They're...dead?" he asks hollowly. She covers her mouth but nods, trapping her apology behind her lips. It's her fault they're dead, ultimately; she blew the forcefield, earning Snow's wrath. But her neighbors and friends and even strangers paid the price for her defiance. "Why didn't...no one said anything…"

He falls silent for a while, his eyes trained on the stiff white sheets of his bed. Eventually, she sits down beside him, scared to stir him. But if he's mad at her, she deserves it. Still, he doesn't speak. "Say something," she urges, her voice shaking.

"I…" He struggles with his words. "I don't...I don't know what to say," he says, finally looking up at her. His eyes are swimming, but he's not crying. He looks lost. "I don't know what I feel. I feel numb."

She curls herself around him, and he releases a heavy exhale, burying his face against her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she finally chokes out, feeling him wrap his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Peeta. It's my fault."

He doesn't speak again for a while after that point. She isn't sure who's trembling worse in that moment.

* * *

Eventually, Peeta is allowed to integrate back into civilian life; with no family left, he is assigned a room by himself. Katniss frets over him, worried about him being alone, but he just laughs off her concerns. "I'll be okay, Katniss," he assures her, unpacking the minimal items he is afforded—the standard-issue gray pants and shirts, the basic, necessary toiletries. "I was alone in Victor's Village for nearly a year, after all."

Which is true, but the questioning lilt to his voice, as if he's not quite sure of what he's saying, bothers her. Maybe he's not as okay with the idea as he wants her to believe.

"I can stay with you at night," she offers, blushing almost immediately. A matching rosiness fills his cheeks, too. Of course, she meant it innocently, but...now that she's thinking about it...She recalls their last kiss on the beach, the delicious warmth that had pooled in her gut, settling between her thighs—she wants that again. Desperately.

"You don't have to," he objects weakly, but she can tell he's not opposed to the idea. She stops him before he can continue.

"I want to," she tells him firmly, shaking off her modesty and embarrassment. "We made a promise to stick together. I'm not leaving you again. Besides...people already think we're married. They already think we've—" She falters, flushing from the insinuation of what the whole of Panem already thinks they've done.

"Right," he agrees softly, his eyebrows furrowing as he's not quite able to meet her gaze. He continues to fold his clothes to put away, and after a moment of silence she moves to help him. His hand accidentally brushes against hers when she takes a shirt from him, and she has to stifle her smile.

* * *

Her mother isn't too happy with her new sleeping arrangements, and Katniss refrains from informing her of the many nights she spent wrapped in Peeta's arms on the trains. Mrs. Everdeen tries to lecture her on being safe, much like Effie had, cornering her as she packs some of her items from her family's compartment.

"Katniss, I know you're a smart girl, but I hope you're being... _safe_ , with Peeta. There are options available in the hospital that I can get for you—"

Katniss slams the door in her face on her way out, burning with resentment.

But later, lying in Peeta's bed beside him, her skin tingling in the lingering trails his hands leave on her body, her stomach knotting with anticipation as he places the first tentative kiss on her lips, she concedes that her mother might have a valid concern.

She doesn't tell Peeta yet, but she approaches her mother the next day, appropriately chastised and embarrassed.

"I think I do need birth control," she tells her quietly, unable to stop the flush from heating her face. If her mother is surprised, she doesn't show it. She just nods her head resolutely.

"I'll take you to the hospital, then. We can get you a shot."

Her arm is still smarting hours later at the injection site as she eats lunch in the cafeteria, and she has to put her utensils down periodically to rub the area; her other hand is latched onto Peeta's. It's the first time he's been allowed into the cafeteria to eat. They sit with Finnick, Gale and Delly, who showed up at Peeta's hospital room a couple days after his arrival when she learned of his return. The girl is obnoxiously upbeat and chatty, and Katniss mostly tunes her out while she reminisces with Peeta over their school days. She's careful to avoid mentioning his family and any childhood memories involving his brothers or parents.

From the corner of her eye, Katniss watches Peeta. He's smiling and nodding at whatever memory Delly's sharing with him; he's handling his family's death relatively well, she thinks, at least compared to how distraught Katniss would be if Prim died. But Peeta never seemed that close to his family; he rarely talked about them with her, and Katniss never once saw them visiting him after the first games.

She's all he has left, really.

Impulsively, she reaches across the table to squeeze his hand. Surprised, he smiles at her and squeezes back, continuing his conversation with Delly. Katniss doesn't miss the hard look on Gale's face, but she ignores it. She's already wasted too much time feeling guilty.

"You don't remember that?" Delly's surprised exclamation pulls Katniss from her reverie, and she glances at Peeta's muddled expression. He shakes his head.

"I don't think so…"

Delly practically squeaks in protest. "We used to draw chalk animals outside the bakery all the time! Your dad would come out and tell us what the animals looked like if we didn't know—"

Both Katniss and Peeta stiffen at the mention of his father. Delly realizes her mistake too late and covers her mouth with a gasp. Katniss glowers at her. "He has amnesia, Delly. Don't push him," she hisses, though she immediately feels bad when she see the tears gleaming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Delly, it's okay," Peeta interrupts, smiling tiredly. He looks at Katniss next. "It's fine. I'm okay."

Despite his reassurances, Katniss takes him back to his room after their meal, ignoring the schedule on her own arm. They've yet to reprimand her, and as the Mockingjay, she doubts they will. Peeta is more important than learning about nuclear history.

"You don't have to babysit me," he tells her wryly, sitting down on his bed. "I know you have other places to be."

She shrugs, lingering by the door uncertainly. "Maybe I'm not babysitting. Maybe I just want to be with you," she forces herself to be truthful. Divulging her feelings has always been hard.

He arches an eyebrow. "Yeah?" he asks, almost playfully, but there's a degree of doubt in his voice. Thinking of the telltale bruise on her arm, she moves closer to him, but she doesn't sit yet.

"Yeah," she replies simply, fiddling with her braid. He reaches up to grab her other hand, tugging lightly so she'll sit down next to him.

"Stop hovering, you're making me nervous," he says with a small chuckle, and her mouth stretches into a brief smile as she settles down beside him. Her skin burns under the pads of his fingers. She's distracted by the thought of their kisses from last night, and she misses the troubled look that passes over his face. "I'm sorry I'm having trouble remembering some things," he says hesitantly, and she blinks at him.

"It's okay," she assures him. "Don't apologize. You went through something none of us can understand...something traumatic. The doctors said it might be awhile before you remember everything. If at all. Maybe it's for the best that you can't," she offers, echoing her mother's sentiments. Peeta nods but doesn't look convinced.

"Yeah, maybe."

She just wants to take his mind off it. She trails her fingers up his arm, and he tilts his head to look at her questioningly. "Let's...talk about something else," she offers, embarrassment at her own ineptitude making her face capillaries explode with heat. "Or...not talk. Whatever."

She can't meet his eyes, but she can see the amusement on his face still. "What do you want to do then?" he asks, keeping his voice low. Her heart is pounding, and she forces herself to lean closer, her face angled down just inches from his.

"Um…" She doesn't know how to vocalize her desires, but Peeta is able to fill in the blanks. He tips her chin up, his breath warming her lips before he touches his mouth to hers. The kiss starts slowly, shyly, until the two grow more familiar and needy. Soon, he has her on her back tucked underneath him, his tongue probing her mouth. When he breaks away to explore her neck, she gasps for air. She begins to squirm as he sucks insistently on the skin under her jaw, an uncomfortable wetness gathering between her thighs. She can feel his hardness pressing against her hip, and she opens her eyes.

"I, uh...I got—I got a shot earlier today," she says, getting his attention. He lifts his head up, but she can tell he doesn't know what she means. "For...you know. To be safe."

He catches on then, his eyes going wide. "Oh," he breathes out, and she bites her lip, looking away.

"We don't...we don't have to do anything yet. Just...whenever. If you want, I mean," she rushes to add, embarrassed, but he smoothes her hair away from her face.

"I do want," he murmurs, his eyes growing dark. "We can go slow, though."

Smiling, she pulls his mouth back to hers for another heated kiss.

They spend the rest of the night exploring and fumbling, over clothes and then under, and when Peeta brings her to a surprising, shuddering orgasm with his fingers, she knows they won't be able to hold out for too long.

* * *

Katniss films a couple more propos for Plutarch and Cressida with Finnick. He's still distracted knowing Annie's in the Capitol, and Katniss can't help the twinges of guilt she feels over having Peeta with her, safe. Luckily, Fulvia comes up with a new propo series of in memoriam videos dedicated to the fallen tributes to spare Katniss and Finnick the brunt of filming for a while. So Katniss takes Finnick outside hunting with her and Gale a few times, hoping the fresh air will help him. She wishes there was water nearby; she remembers the lake back in District 12 and gets permission to take Finnick there, of course under the understanding that Cressida and her crew will be filming them for more footage. Finnick comes alive in the water, even with the heavily armed guards watching them from the shore, and she smiles as she treads water beside him. He looks refreshed.

Coin refused to let Peeta come along for the trip, no matter how much Katniss argued; she's eager to return to him once they leave Twelve, and she finds him in his room painting.

Or trying to.

He looks at her sheepishly as she studies the streaks of paint and squiggles on the canvas propped up on an easel. "I used to be able to do this, I  _know_ it," he says, tapping his brush on the edge of a jar of green paint. "I guess I lost it."

Katniss frowns. "Did you tell the doctors?"

Peeta nods and sighs. "They said this happens sometimes. They're confident it'll come back to me if I keep trying…" he trails off, lifting his brush to drag it across the canvas in an indecipherable design, but he halts when it becomes clear he's not sure what he's making and shakes his head. She tries to smile encouragingly, picking up another brush.

"Let me try." Dipping her brush in some yellow paint, she picks up where he left off, painstakingly depicting a sloppy rendering of a dandelion. When she finishes, she looks at him for approval. He squints at it critically and then smiles.

"Looks good," he tells her, and she looks away bashfully.

"Do you remember when we were 11, after you gave me the bread, the next day at school? I wanted to thank you. I tried to work up the courage to talk to you after school, but...I didn't know how. I looked at you, but you looked away, and then I saw a dandelion. Suddenly, I knew how to take care of me and Prim, how to feed us. But...I still always think of you when I see dandelions now," she admits, glancing back at his face.

He's still smiling at her, but there's a confusion clouding his eyes. "I remember the bread. Throwing it to you from the bakery. But...I don't remember the next day at school, I guess," he says, shaking his head.

She frowns again, troubled by his words.  _I remember everything about you_. He told her that once. He remembered things about her better than she even could.

He looks sad suddenly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, setting his brush down to rub his forehead. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Her heart sinks, and she hurriedly drops her brush to wrap her arms around his neck. "It's okay, Peeta. I'll help you, okay? I'll help you remember," she murmurs against his neck. She begins pressing kisses to his jaw, and he lets out a shuddering breath, turning his head to easily coax her into a kiss. She sweeps her tongue into his mouth and nips at his lips, eliciting a soft groan from him; her inhibitions are forgotten as she pushes him down to his bed, determined to make him forget his worries for the moment.

His hands roam her body liberally, and she manages to tear her mouth from his long enough to work his shirt off over his head. She peppers wet kisses across his chest, and he threads his fingers through her hair to guide her lips back to his, rolling her onto her back on the small cot. He settles between her thighs, pressing his erection against her center, and she gasps. She begins gyrating involuntarily, and soon Peeta is thrusting between her thighs. She can feel the pleasure funneling between her legs as he rubs against her clitoris, and she can't stand it anymore.

"Peeta," she gasps. "I want—can we—?"

He freezes, his pants echoing her own. "You sure?" he asks uncertainly, and she nods eagerly, tugging off her own clothes. He gets his pants off, pausing momentarily to kick them off his prosthetic leg; his erection strains against the cotton fabric of his undershorts. Trembling, she leaves her underwear on as she waits for him to disrobe. She nearly swallows her tongue at the sight of his bare cock, protruding from a thatch of dirty blonde curls; she doesn't know what to do with it.

But then Peeta frees her of her bra, slipping her panties down her legs, and he sighs appreciatively at her naked form. She tries not to squirm under his gaze as it rakes over her, drinking her in. There's no time for embarrassment, however, as his hand drops between her thighs and finds her clitoris after a few fumbles. When she arches up with a moan, his mouth latches onto her breast, and he sucks on her nipple greedily.

It all feels too good; there are too many sensations, too many new feelings, she doesn't know how to begin to process them, especially when his fingers push inside her. "Peeta," she whimpers, and he repeats her name back to her. There's only one coherent thought in her mind at this point.

Has he done this before?

She has to fight herself, choking back the question. It's not worth asking, especially not if he can't remember. Or worse, if he  _can_ remember. It doesn't matter, she decides. She knew he was popular in school; she knew he had his fair share of admirers. He's here with her now.

"Now," she urges, and he stops his ministrations, looking up. His cheeks are flushed, his pupils dilated.

"You want me to...?"

She nods, opening her legs wider under him. His throat bobs with a hard swallow, but he moves into position, holding his cock in hand. It takes a little blind searching for him to find her entrance, and her breath hitches in her throat as he pushes into her, stretching her open. It hurts slightly, but it's not an unbearable pain. Peeta breathes out a gravely moan, and he stops when their hips are flush together. "Oh...Katniss…"

She lets out a breath, making some noise of agreement, and she closes her eyes to revel in the sensation. She's so full. "Peeta," she pleads after a moment, and he begins to move. His thrusts are halting at first as they get used to the feeling. He buries his face in the nook of her neck, and she holds onto his shoulders; soon their bodies are moving more frantically, and she's gasping into his ear.

He stops suddenly, grunting almost painfully. She can feel him pulsing as he spills himself inside her, and she has a momentary feeling of panic until she remembers the shot. She's protected.

"Sorry," he finally murmurs after a moment, pulling out of her, but she keeps him close to her while their breathing returns to normal.

"It was good," she assures him, but he's not satisfied until he makes her come, twice.

* * *

Katniss is surprised when Haymitch tracks her down during Reflection time, a rare moment she's not by Peeta's side. She's in her compartment with her mother and Prim; Katniss has been spending so much time with Peeta lately, she feels guilty for neglecting her sister. But Prim has kept herself busy in the hospital; she gushes to both of them about all the advanced training she's been receiving.

"What do you want?" Katniss asks him. The question isn't meant hostilely, but it comes out as so, anyway. Haymitch brushes it off.

"What, can't talk to my favorite Mockingjay?" he asks drolly, and she rolls her eyes. "How's the boy doing?"

She gives him a pointed look. "You can ask him yourself, you know."

Haymitch shrugs. "I have. Talked to him a little not long after his rescue. It's a little difficult, though; he's not quite right up here." At that, Haymitch taps his temple. Katniss isn't sure why, but she feels defensive for Peeta.

"He was tortured, Haymitch. Cut him some slack."

But the older man just shrugs. "Was he? Did that boy look in any way harmed to you?" he asks rhetorically. Katniss falters. "The last time we saw him on TV, he was looking pretty rough. But there didn't seem to be a scratch on him when they retrieved him. Weird, huh?"

She isn't following her mentor. "What are you trying to say, Haymitch?" she asks pointedly. Mrs. Everdeen and Prim glance between the two of them quietly.

He shrugs again. "I dunno. Something feels weird. Can't put my finger on it though. But when I talked to him, about breaking the victors out of the arena, having to leave him behind, he had no idea what I was referring to."

Katniss glares at him. "Well, isn't that good? Shouldn't you be happy? So you don't have to feel guilty about abandoning him?"

Haymitch is unfazed by her accusation. "You'd think. But it's odd how he can't remember certain things."

She furrows her brow. "The doctors said it was normal for what he's been through."

"Which was what?" he asks, exasperated. "Coin won't tell me anything about the conditions they found him in. Classified information, she says. Plutarch doesn't know anything, or so he claims. I can't track down any of the soldiers who were on the mission. Boggs has been kept in the dark, too, and he's Coin's right-hand man. The doctors won't disclose anything about his condition."

Katniss looks at her mother for help. Mrs. Everdeen sighs. "I wish they'd let me on his case, but they won't. I asked to see his files. I haven't dealt with anyone with such a unique case of amnesia; I was interested in learning more. But they keep telling me I don't have the clearance."

"You're one of the best healers here! You and Prim could probably do a better job helping him than their doctors!" Katniss argues, but Mrs. Everdeen doesn't have an answer for her.

Haymitch stands to leave. "I'm just saying. Something's not right here. I don't quite trust Coin." He leaves after that, and Katniss is left to stew on his words. She doesn't trust Coin either, but she brought Peeta back to her.

And that has to be enough for her.

* * *

Katniss doesn't do well with confrontation. Dealing with her problems head-on has never been her strong suit. She prefers to feign ignorance, to remain oblivious. Putting Haymitch's concerns out of her mind doesn't work the way she hopes it will, so she tries the next best thing: distraction.

And she distracts herself through sex.

They can barely keep their hands off each other in public; it takes everything in her to refrain from cornering him in the cafeteria or hospital or the elevator, and she doesn't hold back when they're alone in his room. She spent over a year denying herself this; she doesn't want to waste anymore time.

So Peeta doesn't resist when she mounts him on his cot, pulling his clothes off, and then her own, with little ceremony. With him sheathed inside her, she moves with caution as she adjusts to the new position, but then she's riding him with abandon, feeling feral and powerful. He concedes control, his hips bucking up into hers as his hands grope helplessly at her thighs and breasts. When she comes, she's only mildly aware of how loudly her shout echoes through his small compartment. Her orgasm milks his own out of him a few seconds later, and his strained cry makes her insides quiver.

"Peeta," she gasps, finally slumping forward bonelessly. He's breathing heavily, and she opens her eyes to smile at him. But he's staring up at the ceiling, glassy-eyed, his mouth slack. She narrows her eyes. "Peeta?" He still doesn't respond, though his chest moves with his breathing. She shakes his shoulder. Nothing. "Peeta!" she yells in his face, shaking him more roughly in her panic.

Finally, he blinks, his eyes coming back into focus as they settle on her face. "Katniss. What?" he asks, disoriented, resting his hands on her hips. She gawks at him.

" _What_? Where did you go right then? I was calling your name, and you wouldn't respond!"

His eyelids flutter rapidly, and his brow dips in confusion. "I...I don't know. I guess I zoned out after," he says weakly, trying to smile at her. She continues to stare at him, her worry etched on her face, and his face falls. He pulls her down to his chest. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to worry you. I'm fine. I'm just tired."

She buries her face against his chest, her conversation with Haymitch flooding her mind once again. So much for the distraction. "Peeta," she sighs, her voice muffled, but she doesn't know what else to say. Neither speaks for a while, eventually dozing off.

They're startled awake when ear-splitting sirens pierce the silence of the room, the lights flickering steadily in some sort of signal. Katniss recognizes this; it's the same alarm Coin sent out for the last bombing, the bombing after Peeta's last televised interview, before the rescue mission.

Is the Capitol attacking again?

Her question is answered a second later when a mechanical voice comes on the speaker, instructing all residents to report to the lower levels.  _"This is not a drill."_

"What's going on?" Peeta asks, alarmed, as they struggle to put on their clothes. Katniss doesn't have to answer; a moment later, the door to his quarters flies open, and Boggs and another soldier appear.

"Soldier Everdeen, Civilian Mellark, follow us immediately," Boggs commands as the two sweep inside to herd them out. Katniss is just able to stuff her feet into her boots, but she stops to help Peeta get his own; he needs assistance with his prosthetic.

"Are we being attacked?" she yells over the sirens, and Boggs nods curtly. He snatches up Peeta's boots and forces them out of the room, clearly agitated.

"We don't have time for this—our systems detected missiles en route. They're half an hour out, at most. Hurry."

Katniss and Peeta don't speak as they follow the soldiers through the flood of people filtering from the upper levels downward. Boggs pushes through the crowd, the Mockingjay an obvious priority, and directs them to a secret-access elevator designated for military personnel only. Katniss grips Peeta's hand tightly, her heart thrumming in her throat. There are other soldiers with them, but they pour out of the elevator at stops before their own at the very bottom, opening to lead them out into a familiar cavern.

"You know where to go from here," Boggs tells her, and she nods. Compartment E. She doesn't need to ask where Peeta's supposed to report to. There's no question; he's staying with her. Boggs hands Peeta his boots before the elevator closes, and he slips them on before following behind Katniss as she weaves through the residents filling the room hurriedly. The sirens are quieter, but a cloud of panic cloaks the room, much like the last time but even more frantic as they dart to their designated areas.

She's relieved to find her mother and Prim already in their compartment.

"Katniss!" Prim cries and hugs her. "You made it. I was so worried."

"Boggs found us. There's not much time," she tells her, glancing at her mother. They got the damn cat this time, too. Prim hugs Peeta, and then they huddle on one of the bunks. She sees the Hawthornes across the way as Gale leads his family to their compartment, and Katniss shares a nod with her old friend, relieved to see them safe.

The missiles must have been closer than they thought because it doesn't take long for the first one to hit. The bunkers shudder violently as an explosion rips across the surface, a loud boom resonating in her core. Katniss holds Peeta and Prim tighter, squeezing her eyes shut as they hunker down to wait out the attack. She hopes all the residents above made it to safety in time.

It doesn't last as long as the last one, and the missiles hit in much quicker succession this time. They're only on lockdown for a little more than 24 hours before they're given the go-ahead to leave the bunkers.

There's a disturbance as they're trying to clear out of the lower levels, however. Another mechanical voice overhead instructs people to return to their living quarters, and minor chaos erupts as people debate whether that means their normal quarters or their bunkers. Mrs. Everdeen is certain the instructions are similar to Level Two drills they've had in the past, so she directs them to one of the elevators to head back up to the upper levels. The alarms are much less intrusive and deafening than the previous sirens, so Katniss is inclined to believe her; still, they have to fight against the mass of bodies that can't decide if it wants to stay in the bunkers or head up.

They've just returned to their floor when they run into Haymitch. He looks crazed and bedraggled, but his eyes flash when he spots Katniss. "You!" he barks, pointing at her, and she freezes. "Follow me, now!" She looks to Peeta, who is equally confused, but when Haymitch's gaze darts to him, the older man's face contorts so bizarrely, Katniss is almost afraid he's having a stroke.

"What do you need us for?" she demands defensively, but Haymitch shakes his head, grabbing her arm. He pushes Peeta toward Mrs. Everdeen and Prim, who clutches a mewling Buttercup protectively.

"Just you. Florence, take him and Prim back to your room." When no one moves fast enough for his liking, he snaps, "Do it now!" And he's dragging Katniss off before she can object. Her eyes follow Peeta and her family until they're out of sight, and then she tries to twist out of Haymitch's grip. He's stronger than he looks.

"What are you doing?!" she cries. "You're hurting me!" Is he drunk? She doesn't smell any booze on him, and she can't imagine how he'd get his hands on any alcohol in Thirteen, anyway.

"Sweetheart—" He stops himself and grits his teeth, shaking his head once again. "There's been a development. You need to see this. I doubt Coin wants you to, but—"

He doesn't say anything further, and Katniss is too mystified to continue arguing with him. What could have possibly happened during the bombing?

He takes her to the hospital floor, and they're greeted with even more commotion as nurses and soldiers run up and down the hallways, jostling the pair as Haymitch steers her to wherever they're going.

"What the hell is happening?" she wonders out loud. "Did someone get hurt?" She can't imagine what sort of emergency would necessitate this sort of chaos; maybe Coin or even Plutarch got injured in the bombing…

"Not quite," Haymitch bites out. After a moment, they find themselves standing outside a room full of doctors and military personnel screaming commands and questions at each other. Katniss recognizes Boggs on the outskirts of the gathering, and she thinks she sees a flash of Coin's silver hair through a glass window in a walled-off room to the side, but there's too many people in her way.

Haymitch begins shoving his way through the crowd; no doubt the soldiers are stronger than him, but they seem too bewildered to fight him off. Boggs spots them, however, and intervenes quickly. "Abernathy, she shouldn't be here—!"

Haymitch glowers at him. "You know damn well she deserves to see this."

They stare each other down, but Boggs relents, ushering them toward the center of the room. By then, Katniss' blood is rushing in her ears. What is going on? She has no idea what to expect, but she begins to fear the worst. Is Gale hurt? Finnick? Posy or Rory or Vick?

She pushes a doctor out of her way, and Haymitch releases her arm as she pulls up short in front of a bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his arms pinned to his sides as nurses poke him with needles and IVs, is a ghost.

No, not a ghost. A ghost is the remnants of someone dead.

But Peeta isn't dead.

He's back in her living quarters with her mother and sister.

So how could she be staring him in the face right at that moment? What the hell is this figment in front of her?

His blue eyes are as wild as his ash-blond hair, his pale skin marred by bruises and blood and scratches. Katniss tries to breathe, but she thinks she's forgotten how to. She can't even swallow; her heart feels like it's stuck in her throat. Her knees weaken dangerously. It's too much.

"Katniss," Haymitch begins warily, but at the sound of her name, the boy on the bed whips around in her direction, his eyes widening impossibly at the sight of her.

" _You!_ " he hisses, his mouth curling in the nastiest snarl she's ever seen. Her whole body goes rigid, a cold sweat inflaming her skin. Black dots float before her vision, and she blacks out right as he lunges for her.

The last thing she's aware of is his fingers closing around her neck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait. This story has been a beast to get through, but that's a poor excuse for taking two months to update what was supposed to be a simple story for Prompts in Panem. The good news (or bad news, depending on how you look at it) is that because this chapter got so long and out of hand, I realized I needed to split the second half into two more parts, so there will be a third chapter. But then that will definitely be the end of this story. I sincerely hope it won't take me as long to update; my schedule isn't nearly as busy in the coming months as it has been the last few months.
> 
> Thank you for being patient with me and for reading! And to those who've taken the time to review, thank you so much!

Katniss is overcome with a strong sense of deja vu when she opens her eyes and sees Haymitch watching her. His face is pale, dark circles under his haunted eyes. His smile is humorless.

"You gotta stop sleepin' on the job, sweetheart."

She opens her mouth to speak, but her voice is scratchy and dry; her throat hurts, and she touches a shaky hand to the cold metal collar on her neck.

She remembers.

She wishes she didn't, but she remembers.

"How?" It's the only word she can squeak out. It's the only word she can find. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand what's happening, how there can be  _two_ Peetas. How he could choke her.

_He._  Whoever  _he_  is.

She just doesn't understand.

Haymitch sighs, leaning forward in his seat. "Well, it's...I'm still not sure I completely understand myself, but I finally got the full story out of Coin and Plutarch. Coin never sent a rescue mission to the Capitol to retrieve Peeta. She cloned him."

Katniss blinks uncomprehendingly. "Cloned?" she croaks, the word foreign to her.

"Plutarch had access to his DNA as head gamemaker. They collect samples from all the tributes before they are sent into the arena. How do you think they made the mutts of all the dead tributes in your last games?" Haymitch asks, and she closes her eyes, swallowing painfully as she recalls the glimmering eyes of Rue staring back at her from the face of that vicious beast. She knows the Capitol is capable of the most unimaginable atrocities, but she can't even fathom  _this_ …

"But...how...did…"

Haymitch's face twists, his lips curling into a sneer. He shakes his head. "Apparently, they've been experimenting with the cloning process for a while here, trying to increase their numbers. Some disease a while ago nearly wiped them out, and it left a lot of them infertile or sterile. They can't reproduce as quickly as Coin would like." He pauses for a moment, staring off at some unseen spot. "When Plutarch left the Capitol, he grabbed a lot of stuff he thought might be useful to their cause. I'm guessing that means they've got your DNA on file, too. Hell, maybe even mine still." He fixes her with a pointed look then.

She can't think about that. It's too much information to process. "So...you're telling me...the—the Peeta I—that we...who's been...the past few...that's...that's not..." She stops, the process of trying to speak a full sentence too difficult and exhausting.

Haymitch shakes his head solemnly. "That's not the real Peeta. The real Peeta is the one I brought you to the other day, the one who attacked you."

She feels sick to her stomach. "But...why...did he...?" She knows she sounds like a child; Haymitch is being unusually patient with her. It must be bad.

And she can tell by the darkness that clouds his eyes that it is. "They did something to him in the Capitol. I'm not entirely sure yet. They're still running tests on him. Looks like he's been extensively tortured, though. Coin said it's likely Snow used the bombing as a diversion tactic to drop Peeta off aboveground. Judging by the way he attacked you, it seems he was sent as a weapon to kill you," Haymitch bites out, then he rubs the back of his neck. "It's lucky Boggs was there to knock him out before he could do any irreparable harm to you."

Lucky. She doesn't feel lucky. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, and she takes a gasping breath, only then realizing she'd stopped breathing. "Haymitch...how...is this...possible?" she chokes out, rolling down face-first into her pillow and squeezing her eyes shut. She feels lightheaded, and her neck aches from the bruised prints of Peeta's hands.

"Sweetheart, your guess is as good as mine," he says quietly. "Your ma is assisting with Peeta right now, trying to figure out more about his current condition. He's been isolated for now. ...So has the other one."

She feels a flash of horror, and she cranes her head to look at him. "Does...he know?" She doesn't know how to refer to  _him_. The cloned Peeta. The Peeta she had sex with. The Peeta who didn't try to hurt her. The Peeta she...whom she…

She can't deal with this.

Haymitch stands up with a grunt. "No, I don't think he's been told anything yet. I don't think anyone's been to see him since the incident; they've got him in his room with armed guards stationed at his door. In fact, no one beyond this immediate circle knows what's going on. And Coin wants it kept that way for the time being." Awkwardly, Haymitch reaches a hand out to pat her shoulder. "Look. Just...get some rest. When we know more, we'll fill you in."

She doesn't respond, pulling the sheet up to cover her head. She hears him leave, and she spends the next hour just listening to the sound of her hot breaths, muffled by the cotton sheet, trying not to think about her two very present problems.

* * *

It doesn't take too long to deduce what's wrong with Peeta. Plutarch and her mother eventually come to visit her and fill her in on his diagnosis. She wants to hate Plutarch for his part in this all, to scream at him, but she's too tired, and it takes too much energy. So she just listens stoically to them as they explain.

"He's been hijacked," Plutarch says. At her blank stare, he elaborates, "You remember the tracker tracker venom they used in your first games, yes? I'm sure you're quite familiar with the effects: hallucinations, extreme paranoia, unable to differentiate between reality and your imagination. It appears Snow used just enough on Peeta over time to completely alter his memories of you and his perception of reality. He now perceives you as the enemy, as someone so detrimental to his existence that he must kill you. We think this is why Snow sent him back, to destroy you."

Katniss' stomach sinks. How can Peeta think of her like that? "I don't understand. How did they...just,  _how_?" Her throat and larynx have healed for the most part, but the words are still hard to come by.

Her mother jumps in. "Our guess is that they used video of you from the games and the Victory Tour while simultaneously injecting him with venom so that the fear he felt became directly tied to your image or name," she says softly, and Katniss covers her face.

This can't be happening. To make Peeta hate her? Before, she might have wished for this, just to save him the misery of loving someone so unworthy, but now...now the thought cleaves her heart in two.

"What happens now?" she gasps out. Her chest feels tight, like it's caught in a vise. Plutarch smiles at her, though it's grim.

"That's still to be determined, but rest assured we're doing everything we can. This is just a bump in the road. Try not too worry too much, Katniss! We'll need you in working order for more propos soon—it's important that Snow sees that he has not defeated or broken the Mockingjay!"

He bursts out of the room after that, Katniss gawking dumbly after him. She feels a fiery anger roiling in her stomach, but it's immediately extinguished when she thinks about Peeta. She looks to her mother helplessly. "Mom...this is too much. How can they fix him? And—and what about...the other?" Her voice trembles, and her mother leans over to squeeze her hand. Suddenly, Katniss feels much like she did on the days she missed school during the trips to the coalmines, some of the only times she would allow herself the comfort of her mother's touch.

"I know. I can't imagine how overwhelming this is. But the hospital has a good staff. They've done some amazing things here—" She falters slightly, probably thinking of their latest  _amazing_  accomplishment. "We'll think of something, okay? I'm going to work with Peeta personally. Not right away, though; right now they're relying on residents and staff here he doesn't know as to avoid triggering any freakouts from him. But we'll figure this out. As for...the other, he's still in isolation. I'm not sure they want to tell him anything yet. But...maybe it would do both of you some good to talk. I'm sure he's scared and confused right now."

Her mother presses a light kiss to her forehead before murmuring something about getting back to work, exiting her room.

Katniss mulls over her mother's suggestion, but she can't imagine what comfort she could provide the other Peeta. She's too scared herself, too confused—how can she look him in the face again, knowing the truth? He's not the real Peeta.

And the real Peeta wants to kill her.

Right now, she doesn't ever want to leave her bed.

* * *

No one's more surprised than she is to find herself outside Peeta—the real Peeta's—hospital room, where he's been safely quarantined for the past few days.

" _We're going to help him, Katniss, don't worry," Prim whispers one night in their shared bunk in their living quarters, curled around her bigger sister._

" _How are you going to do that?" Katniss asks, her voice muffled by the pillow._

_Prim brushes a lock of hair off of Katniss' forehead. "We're trying to hijack him back. Reverse his negative feelings toward you with injections of morphling."_

_Confused, Katniss lifts her head to look at Prim. "How's that going to help?"_

_Prim smiles slightly. "Well...I just thought, if Snow used fear-inducing chemicals in association with you, maybe we can do the opposite: use good-feeling chemicals while showing him video of you. The doctors said nothing like this has been attempted before, but...they're optimistic it could work, I think."_

_Katniss studies her little sister's face intently, her little sister who doesn't seem so little anymore. She seems smarter beyond her years now. In that moment, she feels like the younger of the two, desperate for reassurance from her wiser sister. "And what do you think? Do you think it could work?" she asks, trying to hedge the hope out of her voice._

_Prim's face grows serious. "I think...I think Peeta is strong. And I think he'll do everything he can to get back to you. We just have to be patient."_

Patience has never been one of Katniss' strong suit, though. Which is why she's come to see him. She has to see, has to know, if all this is hopeless…

Screwing up her courage, she taps the button to open the door and warily steps into the observation room. The doctors at the one-way mirror turn to look at her curiously. Just beyond them she can make out Peeta, strapped to his bed. Her tongue feels thick in her mouth.

"How is—" She thinks better of it and changes her line of questioning. "Can I see him? Talk to him maybe?"

One doctor, the taller, balding one, looks perturbed by her request. "He's still very unstable, Soldier Everdeen. We haven't been able to gauge any real progress with his treatment as of yet. I don't think seeing you would be conducive to his recovery."

She inhales sharply, the mild defiance she feels flaring inside her dying immediately. She peers beyond them at Peeta again. He seems twitchy, his body practically buzzing and vibrating off the bed despite his restraints. His eyes are unfocused, and his lips move like he's talking to himself. Occasionally, he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

She releases her breath. "I just...I need to see him, try to talk to him. He's being restrained, so if anything happens, I can just...leave the room." She keeps her voice firm, her face hard, hoping the doctors will know she means business. She has another thought. "Plutarch thought it might be a good test to see how he reacts to me now, if his reaction is as strong as it was the day he returned." It's a lie, but she's hoping they won't know that—or at least, that they'll be just as interested in the experiment.

The doctors share a look, and the shorter man with a full gray beard gives a curt nod of his head. The balding one motions her forward and pushes a few buttons on the control panel in front of him. A door to Peeta's interior room slides open, and Katniss feels all the nerves and anxiety knot into a tight ball in the pit of her stomach. She makes herself walk forward, and she's barely through the door when she feels Peeta's eyes land on her.

The cold heat of his stare causes the hair on the back of her neck to stand up, and she freezes automatically. A myriad of emotions flash across his face—anger? fear? loathing? She's sure it's all there, but there's confusion too, like he's not quite sure what he feels either.

But then his mouth pulls into a snarl. "Katniss," he spits at her, and she sees all the veins in his arms rise to the surface as he strains against his straps. His hands ball into tight fists.

She nearly chokes on her breath. "I—Peeta—" Why is she talking? She realizes immediately it's a mistake. His eyes narrow dangerously.

"Shut up! Shut your fucking mouth. You're a liar—I don't want to hear another fucking lie out of your mouth, you fucking bitch! Get away from me," he hisses. Her heart sinks.

"Peeta—" she tries again, against her better judgment, and he jerks so suddenly against his restraints, he rattles the frame.

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" he screams at her, spit flying, his face red, and she jumps back, as if thrown backward by the vehemence of his words.

Gasping, she spins on her heel and nearly trips through the door on her way out. The doctors are already scrambling, syringes in hand, and they push her out of the way as they rush to Peeta's side, ready to inject him with more morphling.

Katniss is out of the room in a flash; she's not even fully aware of her destination until she reaches the floor of Peeta's—the other Peeta's room. She can't deal with this; she needs  _him_ , needs the comfort and love he provides her, the comfort and love the  _real_ Peeta would have given her, used to give her, before Snow ruined him.

There are two guards stationed outside his room, but she ignores them until they block her path. "Restricted area. You don't have the clearance to be here," one barks at her.

She realizes she's shaking—with fear or rage, she's not sure. But she directs it at him, baring her teeth. "You can't stop me from seeing him," she growls, determined to push past them, but the soldiers shove her back and raise their guns.

"Soldier, I advise you to step down," he threatens, and she realizes it's not going to do her any good to argue. Without another word, she turns around and heads back to the elevator. She scours each floor until she finds whom she's looking for.

Boggs.

"I need to see him," she informs him flatly. He frowns.

"Who?"

She levels him with a meaningful glare. "Peeta—the  _cloned one_. Your asshole lackeys won't let me into his room. I deserve to see him. He's been alone all this time—you can't keep him locked up and isolated like that!" She feels her hysteria rising; Boggs must sense it because his face softens. He doesn't budge for a moment, then he sighs and gently grabs her arm, steering her toward the elevator.

"Come on."

He's quiet while he leads her back to the clone's room until he stops suddenly. "You can see him, but you can't tell him anything. Not yet. Coin's orders. Do you understand?" he asks harshly. She nods, but he presses. " _Do_  you?"

"Yes, I get it," she snaps. She wouldn't know how to explain any of it to him, anyway.

At his door, Boggs exchanges a few terse words with the soldiers before getting them to stand down. He slaps his hand on the button to open the door and then waves her in. As she passes him, he tells her begrudgingly, "You have full access to this room, Soldier Everdeen."

Nodding her thanks, she steps into the room; there's a flash of blonde, and she tenses reflexively when a solid body launches itself at her, quickly pulling her into an embrace.

"Katniss! My god, I'm so relieved to see you!"

She relaxes immediately; Peeta always has that effect on her.

But he's not Peeta, not really.

But the other one, back in the hospital room...that's not really Peeta, either. Peeta could never hate her, but he does.

Isn't this one more like the Peeta she knows? In essence, isn't he  _more_ real?

Shaking the thoughts, she hugs him back and sighs. She feels better already, all the tension and anxiety melting from her limbs.

"What's going on? Where have you been? They wouldn't tell me anything!" he whispers against the top of her head. "I couldn't talk to anyone, couldn't see anyone. I feel like I've been in here for weeks. They only open the door to give me food. What the hell happened, Katniss?"

She finds the truth forming on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers her promise to Boggs. And, selfishly, she realizes she doesn't want him to know. As long as he thinks he's real, then nothing has to change between them. And she needs things to be back to how they were, or as close as possible.

Swallowing nervously, she pulls back some. His eyes are on her face instantly as he examines her, cupping her face, pushing her hair behind her ears. It was a bad idea to look him in the face; she's never been good at lying to him, at deceiving him. She averts her eyes. "I...They just needed to make sure we were safe after...after the bombing. You were captured once. I guess they didn't want to risk losing you again," she says weakly, risking a glance at him. His eyebrows are furrowed, but if he thinks she's lying, he doesn't let on. His thumb strokes her cheek absently.

"Why didn't they just tell me that?" he murmurs, almost to himself. She shrugs helplessly and, to end the line of questioning, she wraps her arms around his neck again. He hugs her back readily.

"I missed you," she tells him softly.

"God, I missed you too, Katniss. I was so worried about you. Haymitch dragged you off so suddenly, and then they locked me up down here. I don't know what I thought had happened to you, but I was scared."

Tears blur her vision, and she sucks her lip into her mouth to fight them. His worry for her is so palpable and raw, it takes her breath away. He loves her.

Real Peeta hates her.

The thought is so awful, she can't take it anymore. She retreats into safe, familiar territory: avoidance.

Angling her face toward his, she rests her hand on his opposite cheek. "I'm okay," she breathes before bringing his mouth to hers. It's just a quick brush of their lips together, but then she pulls him back for another kiss, this one much longer, much harsher as she funnels all her frustration and fear and need into it. It quickly grows heated, and she drops her hands to paw at his shirt and slacks. He gasps, his hands tightening on her hips.

"Katniss," he murmurs in the rare moment her lips leave his, but she doesn't want to talk. She needs this, needs the physical comfort he gives her, the distraction, the steadying force that he is. Otherwise, she feels like she's going to spin out of control.

"I missed you so much," she whispers before sweeping her tongue back into his mouth, pushing his shirt up. His arms go slack then, and he allows her to pull the garment off entirely, his face dipping back down to kiss her again. He grows more urgent, too, probably from being locked up alone for days. Her shirt comes off as well, briefly tangling around her hands and braid in his haste to tug it over her head. But she pushes him to the bed, and they collapse on top of it ungracefully. Straddling his lap, she forces him down onto his back and angles her hips back to grind down on his growing erection. They both moan, and Katniss tips her head back to let the sensation wash through her. Peeta grabs ahold of her waist and pulls her down on his cock harder as he begins thrusting up between her thighs; his breathing grows more ragged, and she's suddenly worried he's going to come already.

Abruptly, she rolls off of him and onto her back beside him, tucked against the wall, and she hurriedly begins stripping out of her pants. He watches her dumbly as she struggles to get her pants and boots off, kicking them off the edge of the bed. "Peeta, I need you," she begs, lifting her hips to shimmy out of her underwear, and that spurs him into action. He gets his pants and underwear off with a little more ease, and she opens her legs to him when he moves on top of her. His face is flushed, and he positions himself with certainty until the moment his cock brushes against her folds and she releases a shaky, expectant moan. He glances up at the door warily then, probably worried about the guards overhearing them, but she doesn't care.

"Peeta, please," she demands, already reaching down to grab his cock and push the tip through her folds. His nostrils flare, and he takes over, pushing into her; she's not wet enough, so it takes him a little effort, pulling out and surging his hips forward to work his cock inside her. Once he's there, she plants her feet on the bed and rocks her hips to encourage his movements. He exhales sharply, resting back on his knees so he can thrust into her. Closing her eyes, she groans when he pulls the flimsy cup of her bra down and plucks teasingly at her nipple. She can feel herself getting wetter, making the pistoning of his cock in and out of her easier. His mouth descends on her breast next, his tongue bathing it generously before he sucks it between his lips. Her hips buck upward, and she fists her hands in his hair.

He's moving too slow though; she needs to be fucked harder, with an urgency, so she's not thinking about anything else. Because now her mind's drifting back to  _Peeta_ , and how much he hates her, and how he would never be this gentle with her, not now, not when he wants to hurt her so badly.

"P-Peeta," she grunts pleadingly, trying to drive her hips up against his faster, but he seems content with lavishing his slow attention on her breasts. Frustrated, she pushes him back, using her knees to distance his pelvis away from hers. He gapes at her in confusion when his cock slips out of her, but she twists onto her stomach underneath him awkwardly. "Like this—let's do it like this," she urges him, wriggling her ass a little.

"I…" He fumbles for his words before he parts her thighs with his knees to settle down between them, and his hand fumbles at the cleft of her ass before he gets himself positioned, pushing his cock back into her. She sighs with him and tries to arch her back some so he'll have an easier time fucking her. He slips out a couple times until he finds the best angle, and then he's moving steadily.

"Harder, please, Peeta," she pleads, wedging her hand between her body and the mattress to seek out her clit. He falters slightly.

"I can do that for you," he gasps, but she shakes her head against the pillow.

"No, just—just fuck me,  _hard_ , please." She cries out in relief the moment her fingertips begin rubbing circles on the swollen nub at the apex of her thighs. Peeta grunts, shifting his weight so it's resting on his right forearm beside her head. His other hand closes around her left hip, and then suddenly he's fucking her just right, his pelvis slamming against her ass as he pushes his cock inside her as deep and as fast as he can. He rests his forehead on her shoulder, and she shudders as his warm breath skitters down her spine with his gasping pants. She rubs her clit furiously, burying her face in the pillow to stifle her increasingly insistent moans, and her muscles tighten with the rush of her climax. Her wail is thankfully muffled, and she spasms underneath him as she comes, her walls fluttering around his cock.

"Fuck, fuck," he chants and slows immediately, pushing her down into the bed with his hips as his own orgasm crests; she can feel the pulsing of his cock against her walls even through the ebbing vibrations of her release, and she squeezes her eyes shut.

She's surprised to feel tears in her eyes, dispersing against her cheeks and into the pillow as the cotton material absorbs the moisture rapidly. Her wheezes quickly dissipate into choking hiccups as she tries to fight back the sobs, but it's no use. Peeta tenses on top of her and quickly pulls out.

"Katniss?" he asks, alarmed. "Did I hurt you? What's wrong?"

She shakes her head fiercely and pulls her hand up to swipe at her tears, cringing slightly when she manages to smear her own arousal across her cheeks. "No, you didn't, I'm sorry—I just, I'm just overwhelmed, and it was just, it felt so good, and I guess—" Her voice breaks because she's not sure what is happening.

Or, rather, she does, but she doesn't want to think about it. She hiccups again but shakes her head. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. It's not you. I'm just...I'm wound tight. But I'm happy." She tries to smile at him over her shoulder, though she knows it's a watery one. He still looks concerned, so she rolls onto her back underneath him and pulls him down to her in a hug, tucking her face against the crook of his neck. "Just hold me, please?"

He doesn't hesitate then, wrapping her in his arms; he moves onto his side so he's not crushing her. As he strokes her hair, she feels the tears well up again, and she just lets him cradle her while she cries.

* * *

There are only a select few, beyond the doctors and nurses, who know about the situation, Gale and Finnick being among the informed. When Gale learns that she is still spending time with the cloned Peeta, he is livid.

"Is that wise?" he asks during one of their meals in the cafeteria, his voice sharp.

"I'm not really concerned about what's wise or not, Gale," she tells him tightly, and he shakes his head. Finnick watches them with barely concealed amusement as he eats his turnips.

"He's not  _real_ , Katniss."

She glares at him. "He certainly feels real to me," she retorts, knowing she's pushing him when she sees his jaw tighten. He looks away at that, and Finnick lets a slow grin slip out before taking a sip of his water. She's too agitated to share in his amusement, however.

With a sigh, Gale scrubs a hand over his face before turning back to her. "What do you think is going to happen to him, huh? There can't be two Peetas, Katniss. And if he—the other one—gets better, then what are you going to do?" She doesn't have an answer because she truly doesn't know; she hasn't had much hope that Peeta will recover, so she hasn't allowed herself to think about the possibility. When she doesn't answer, Gale huffs. "It's fucked up, Katniss."

With that, he shoves his tray away from him, barely having touched his food, and storms out of the cafeteria, probably retreating to the Weapons Room to strategize some more with Beetee.

Finnick smiles widely, quirking an eyebrow at her as he slides Gale's tray between the two of them. "Look at all this extra food, just for the two of us. Quick, before they see us and take it away."

She's suddenly lost her appetite, though, and when Finnick offers her an unappetizing-looking dumpling, she refuses it. He just shrugs and happily plops it in his mouth. Gale's words are ringing in her head still:  _If he gets better, then what are you going to do?_

"Finnick, what would you do if—if it were Annie?" she blurts out, and he freezes. "I mean, if Annie had been the one...cloned. And if she were sent back in the same state as Peeta? What would you do?"

Finnick's entire demeanor changes at her question, and she immediately feels horrible, but she knows in the past this has been what bonded them, what Finnick opened up about. He shakes his head, smiling sadly. "I don't know. I almost wish it were her. At least then she'd be back and away from Snow. And if she hated me...she might be safer for it."

Katniss drops her head into her hand and releases a shaky breath. "Yeah," she concurs weakly. Because isn't that what she used to think, what she used to want for Peeta? It would be better for him if he hated her, she always thought. But she just didn't anticipate it hurting so much.

"I'd probably do the same thing," Finnick adds a moment later, quieter. She glances up at him. "What you're doing. I'd do the same. Because I'm selfish. I wouldn't be able to let her go either."

Katniss just nods, closing her eyes. She always knew she and Finnick were a lot alike.

* * *

Even though she doesn't ask, she gets updates over the next couple of weeks, from Prim and Haymitch and even Plutarch.

" _Good news, Katniss!" Plutarch tells her when he tracks her down between her scheduled classes. "We've almost got him convinced you're not a mutt! And he's allowed to feed himself now!"_

Prim is more clinical in her assessment but still optimistic.

" _He seems to be responding better to the videos they show him," Prim whispers to her encouragingly one night in their room. "He's able to have lucid conversations with me and Mom without anything triggering him."_

Katniss knows Haymitch will level with her more.

" _He watched the video from the first games where you told him the story about Prim and the goat," he tells her solemnly._

" _How did he respond? Did he get angry?" she asks, and his mouth pulls into a grimace._

" _No, not...angry."_

" _That's better then, isn't it?" she asks hopefully._

_Haymitch shakes his head. "If you consider abject confusion better. He went into a catatonic state afterwards for about two hours. When he came to, all he asked about was the goat."_

Katniss doesn't have any hope that they'll be able to fix whatever's wrong with him; she tries not to think about it, losing herself in the clone's company. Sometimes, she forgets he's the cloned one, the  _other_. He's eventually allowed out of his room, since Coin is worried the rest of the District 13 population will become suspicious if Peeta doesn't make an occasional appearance. She tries to act normal around him. Finnick is welcoming to him, but Gale generally refuses to acknowledge his presence. She's grateful that Peeta seems indifferent to the other man's snubbing. Gale hasn't been very accommodating since his rescue, anyway.

She and Peeta are on their way back to his room when Haymitch stops her. "I need to talk to you," he tells her directly, leveling her with a meaningful look. Instantly, she knows what it's about. Swallowing thickly, she tries to smile at Peeta.

"I'll see you later tonight, okay?" He just nods, kissing her cheek before releasing her hand. When he's out of sight, she turns to Haymitch expectantly, folding her arms over her stomach. "What is this about?"

He lifts his eyebrows at her. "He wants to see you."

His words suck the air out of her. "What?" she breathes, her mouth parting in shock.

"Asked for you specifically," he says, nodding his head over his shoulder. "Come on." Her head is swimming as she follows him down a few floors to the wing of the hospital Peeta is being kept. Doctors and nurses are waiting when he leads her into the room, clipboards in hand. Even her mother is there. Katniss glances at the one-way mirror, her brow creasing when she sees that Peeta is strapped to the bed, much like he was the last time she visited him.

"Why is he restrained? I thought you said—"

"We have no idea how he's going to react to you, sweetheart. Just a precaution," Haymitch tells her, then he gestures her toward the door. "We'll be out here listening."

Tugging nervously at her braid, she shuffles through the door the moment they open it for her. Like before, Peeta's eyes are on her immediately. There's a coldness to his stare, an apathy that tightens his face, but the blues of his eyes are more focused, less deranged, less hostile.

But there's still some disgust there as he takes her in, and she can't help the clenching sensation in her heart and stomach. Steeling her nerves, she forces herself to stand up straight and pushes her shoulders back. "Haymitch said you wanted to see me."

The skin under his right eye twitches. "To look at you, for starters."

She holds her arms out to her sides. "Didn't get a good enough look the other day when you were screaming at me?" she asks drily. She doesn't know why she's antagonizing him. She's sure Haymitch is cursing her on the other side of the mirror.

Peeta narrows his eyes. "You're not very nice, are you?" he says rhetorically, then he smirks a little. "Not particularly pretty, either."

She bristles at his insult; it stings more than she wishes. "This coming from the guy who called me a lying bitch," she spits at him, self-consciously crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't look too hot yourself right now."

He just shakes his head. "You're something else, aren't you? To say that to me after all I've been through."

She glares at him, flaring her nostrils in defiance. "Yeah, well, we've all been through some shit." Suddenly, she feels tired and sick to her stomach. She can't deal with him right now. "Look, I'm not feeling too well right now. I'm gonna go."

She turns to leave, and he calls after her. "Can't even afford me the decency of a face-to-face conversation? I guess I'm not surprised."

Gritting her teeth, she ignores him and storms out of the room. No one stops her, not even Haymitch.

Peeta's right, of course. She's too much of a coward to continue their conversation. The way he looks at her now...like he finally sees her for who she really is: Manipulative. Untrustworthy. Selfish. Deadly.

She absolutely hates him for it.

* * *

Coin calls a strategy meeting a few days later; only a select few are invited, including Katniss, Haymitch, Finnick, Plutarch, Boggs, Beetee and Gale. Just the sight of the silver-haired woman makes Katniss' blood boil. Who is she to so callously devise a plan to clone someone else and pass it off as the real deal? It shows such a complete disregard for others, and Katniss still has yet to hear Coin apologize or offer any sort of explanation from her end.

She simmers quietly in her chair in the Command Center, curious as to what Coin could possibly have to say right now.

It's not at all what she expects.

"We need to film some more propos so Snow knows he hasn't defeated the resistance or the Mockingjay." She lets that sink in before adding, "And we're going to use Peeta in the videos as well."

There's a collective intake of breath as the shock of her statement settles around the table—and then a brief moment of confusion as they all wonder:  _Which one?_ Katniss is too dumbfounded to even process her thoughts.

Sensing their question, Coin replies, "The clone. Peeta is still too unstable. We want Snow to think his attack had no effect on us, that we haven't been rattled. So we will use the clone in the propos."

There is grumbling around the table, and Katniss blanches as Coin's words sink in. "You can't be serious," she whispers, but Coin isn't fazed by her question.

"I'm very serious, Soldier Everdeen. It's not up for discussion. We'll start filming the new propos tomorrow."

Katniss blinks rapidly in response, aghast. "Not up for discussion? I don't have to do a damn thing you say if I don't want to!" she snaps. Coin's eyes harden.

"Let me remind you that you agreed to be the Mockingjay. I upheld my end of the bargain. You need to as well."

"You're not the one who brought Peeta back!" Katniss yells. "You cloned him, and you were content to let the real Peeta—and the others—die in the Capitol!"

Coin glowers at her. "I believe my end of the bargain was that I wouldn't try Peeta for treason. And I haven't; he's been fully pardoned, even though he tried to kill you. I've upheld every other facet of the deal," she tells her coolly, and Katniss snaps her mouth closed, grinding her teeth together. She's right, though; she can't argue that Coin hasn't fulfilled her promises, however unsavory her methods.

Plutarch leans forward, his voice a little softer than Coin's. "We need to boost morale around here, Katniss. We've got soldiers close to taking District 2 right now, but they're in a stalemate. If we distract Snow and his forces while encouraging our soldiers, we might be able to take them down in Two. And then it's on to the Capitol. We're so close to winning this war," he tells her earnestly.

Wearily, Katniss glances around the table at the others. Their faces are solemn, but they offer her no guidance. Haymitch looks more perturbed than the rest, but he stays quiet too, his eyes trained on the table as if he's deep in thought. Shaking her head, she drops her face into her hands. "Fine," she grunts. She hears Plutarch breathe a sigh of relief.

"Good," Coin barks before dismissing everyone. "Cressida will get up with you and the clone tomorrow."'

The clone. There's something about the way Coin uses the word that makes Katniss' hackles rise. She shoots Coin a nasty glare before pushing away from the table and stalking out of the room. She doesn't get far before she changes her mind and turns back around, searching for Haymitch. She ignores the others as they filter out of the Command Center, and when her former mentor meets her eyes, she raises her eyebrows at him. Shaking his head, he then nods for her to follow him; she does, trailing him as he leads her into a supply closet for more privacy. It's the same one she hid in after Peeta's first Capitol appearance, the one where she decided to become the Mockingjay.

"Talk," he tells her gruffly once the door is shut, and she widens her eyes at him.

"You and the rest of them are just going to let Coin do these things with no objection?" she accuses incredulously.

He shrugs. "She's the one calling the shots here. Not my jurisdiction."

Katniss grits her teeth. "But it's about Peeta. I thought he  _was_ your concern—or did you ever care about him at all?" She knows she's being unnecessarily cruel, but she's too angry, too frustrated. Haymitch narrows his eyes.

"Now, listen here, girl—"

"I don't get how you can just sit back and let her make these decisions and use Peet— _him_  like this!"

His face twists into something wry. "As far as I can see, it's not much different than what you're doing to him, sweetheart."

She recoils as if slapped, her mouth dropping. "I'm not  _using_ him—" Her words catch in her throat because isn't she? Isn't that exactly what she's doing, using the clone to distract her from the situation with the real Peeta?

Haymitch just shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You should tell him. The clone. You should tell him what's going on. He should know everything," he says, and she stares at him helplessly.

"But...Coin said I can't—"

He interrupts her with a snort. "And since when have you cared about doing what she says?" With that, he twists the handle and flings the door open. He gives her one last look over his shoulder. "You should tell him," he repeats simply before stepping out, closing the door and enclosing her in the darkness again.

Katniss stares at the door for a while before sinking down to the floor where she wraps her arms around her knees. How is she supposed to tell him? What is she supposed to say, exactly?  _You're a clone of someone else, Peeta. Coin only created you as a political ploy. You're not real._

She can't tell him. She just can't.

* * *

Katniss shows up for the propo as she agreed, Peeta by her side. Despite Haymitch's insistence, she doesn't inform him about the situation. She almost convinces herself that it's more for his benefit than her own.

Almost.

Cressida has them walk through the damage done on the surface from the bombs, weaving through rubble and cleaning crews as they survey the damage and hold hands. But all she can think about is:  _Where did they find Peeta? Was it here, by these demolished steps? Where did Snow dump him? Was he frightened and confused at that point? Was he even conscious?_

She's suddenly all too aware of Peeta's hand in hers, the skin of their palms slickening with sweat, and she has to shake him off and swipe a hand across her damp forehead. Cressida tells the cameramen to stop filming. "Sorry," Katniss mumbles, trying to offer everyone an apologetic smile, but it feels like a grimace. She's outside, but she suddenly feels stifled.

"I think we've got enough footage for a brief TV spot, anyway," Cressida informs her, gesturing for the crew to pack it in. "Thanks, you two. We're done for today."

Katniss and Peeta make their way back inside. Her stomach twists more with every footstep that resounds in her head. "I'm not feeling well," she finally tells him, pulling up short. She just wants to go back to her bed and curl up under her covers, but he's not letting her duck out that easily.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concerned.

"Nothing, I just—I wanna lie down," she says weakly.

"Okay. Do you want me to go with you?" he asks, and she shakes her head frantically.

"No!" she yells, but at his confused look, she backtracks. "I mean, yes. I...don't know."

His brow furrows. "Katniss, what's going on?"

Sighing, she glances around the otherwise empty hallway. She recalls Haymitch's advice to her:  _You need to tell him_. The words are rising in her throat like bile, and she closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, he fills her vision entirely, having moved closer; he watches her expectantly.

"Peeta," she murmurs, her mouth dry like it's thick with cotton. She tries to swallow. "Peeta, I...I have to tell you something."

He lifts his eyebrows as he waits.  _Just tell him,_  she tells herself. Quickly. Like a bandage.

"You're not real!" she blurts. He blinks before his face twists in confusion.

"Huh?"

Her lips part wordlessly as she gestures at him, words escaping her as she struggles to explain. "You—I mean you're not  _real_. You're not...you're not Peeta. I mean, you are, but Coin—Coin had you cloned. Well, she had  _Peeta_ cloned. Because—because he was in the Capitol; he'd been captured by Snow after the games. So she cloned him. And you're...you're the clone."

The jumbled explanation rushes out of her, and she holds her breath when she finishes, watching his face for his reaction. But it's locked in an uncomprehending expression as he tries to make sense of her words. Finally, he breathes out a word: " _What?_ "

Katniss licks her lips and tugs on her braid. "I'm sorry, Peeta. I—I didn't know how to tell you, and they didn't want me to tell you, but then I realized that I  _needed_ to tell you…"

He laughs suddenly, startling her. "Katniss, this is—you're not making any sense. Is this some kind of joke? Are you and Finnick trying to pull one over me? This is insane."

She just stares at him, her eyes wide, and gradually his face falls the longer the silence stretches. He blinks rapidly, his nostrils flaring as he takes a sharp breath. "This is insane," he repeats, looking away. His eyes dart around the hallway. "I don't...I don't understand what you're telling me. A  _what_? A clone? I'm a  _clone_? Of—of someone else? How? How is that even possible?"

There's a tinge of hysteria to his voice that scares her. "I guess—I guess Plutarch helped with the process, with your—Peeta's DNA and—"

"This is bullshit!" he explodes suddenly, and she shrinks away. His hands fly up to his head where he tugs on his hair. He laughs again in disbelief, but his face is humorless, his eyes and mouth bearing evidence of the horror making its way through his system. "No, I—no, no. No fucking way. This is—no! This can't be real!"

"Peeta—"

"No! I need to talk to Coin! Take me to Coin! I want her to tell me this, to my face!" He turns away without a response from her, but he flails helplessly as he twists in different directions, unsure where to go. "Tell me where she is!"

Katniss flies into action. "I—I'm not sure, but I'm sure we can ask someone…" she mumbles, hurriedly scampering down the hallway until they find a soldier in uniform. "We need to speak to Coin," she tells her urgently, but the woman just looks at her, flabbergasted.

"I don't—I'm not sure where she is at the moment."

"Then Boggs!" Katniss snaps. "Do you know where he is?"

The soldier hesitates for a moment, her gaze drifting between the two agitated teenagers before she nods. "Yeah, I think he's in Weapons."

Katniss and Peeta follow her down to Weapons, where they find Boggs talking to Beetee and a couple other scientists. When Boggs looks at them, his face hardens, and he strides toward them purposefully to grab Katniss' arm, pulling her away from Peeta.

"What's going on?"

She looks at him imploringly. "He knows."

Boggs narrows his eyes. "You had direct orders not to tell him, Everdeen—"

"He had to know!" she insists, her voice rising before she could stop herself. "You can't pretend there's nothing going on here. He has a right to know! Both of them do. He wants to talk to Coin himself."

Boggs pinches the bridge of his nose, hard, then shakes his head. "This is going to come down on me, you realize that, right?"

For a moment, she's ashamed. "I'm sorry, but...look at him," she says, gesturing to Peeta, who is pacing maniacally. "Coin can't do this to him, to either of them. To any of us. We have a right to know. She needs to tell him herself what's going on."

He sighs, something like "Yeah" slipping out with his exhale, but then he clears his throat. "Hold on." He steps away for a moment to speak into his communicuff. After he receives a response, he turns back to her. "Follow me then."

Dutifully, Boggs takes them down a few more levels on the elevator to an area Katniss has never been before. She realizes it must be where Coin stays, where she conducts her business; Boggs has to use a special key in the elevator to access the level.

Coin meets them in the hallway, the door to whatever lies behind her sliding shut as they stop before her. Her face is stern as her eyes flit between all their faces. "What is it? I'm extremely busy."

"Soldier Everdeen and Civilian Mellark wished to speak with you," Boggs informs her, stepping aside. Not for the first time, Katniss is met with the older woman's cold stare, but Peeta speaks first, taking a step toward Coin.

"What am I?" he demands, one hand splayed across his chest as he clutches at his shirt.

Coin barely blinks as she acknowledges him. Her response is almost dismissive. "You're a clone, a genetically identical copy of Peeta Mellark, former District 12 resident and victor of the 74th Hunger Games."

Katniss is stunned by her bluntness, as is Peeta. His mouth gapes open as he digests her words, and then he exhales a puff of air, his body deflating. "How could you do that?" he accuses, and Coin just stares at him.

"It's a complicated procedure, certainly, but not a new one around here. We've been perfecting it over the years. You're not the first clone, but you might be the most successful one yet."

Katniss' face grows hot with fury. "He's not asking  _how_  you did it, but how you could even  _think_ it was an acceptable action to take!" she snaps, and Coin glares at her.

"You seemed satisfied with the clone only weeks ago, if memory serves me correctly, soldier," she replies coolly, and Katniss grits her teeth, shame coursing through her body. Coin continues, and her tone is practically flippant, "It's simple. We needed Mellark in order for you to do your job duties. Snow had Mellark. We couldn't risk our already limited forces with a surely suicide mission into the Capitol. So we cloned him instead."

"How can you be so casual about this?!" Katniss yells, and she glances at Boggs. He looks away. "How can you deceive people like this? It's not right what you're doing here!"

Coin just shook her head. "I don't have time for a temper tantrum—"

"You know it's not right—that's why you didn't want him to know! That's why you didn't want me to tell him," Katniss spits at her, clenching her fists at her sides. She wants to rip Coin's face off; maybe then she'll get a reaction out of her otherwise stone-cold demeanor. It's absolutely infuriating.

"Because the presence of both of them created a problem that frankly I don't have the time to deal with. We're fighting a war right now," Coin responds coldly, but then the ghost of a smile pulls at her mouth. "But, actually, I'm beginning to see the benefits of having two Mellarks now. If one can't perform, we can use the other. It's a huge tactical advantage for us—Snow doesn't even realize the gift he's given us."

Katniss is rendered speechless by her heartlessness. How can she be so calculating? Katniss looks to Peeta, who's just staring at the ground now. Boggs won't look at her either. She swallows thickly. "This is—it's wrong. There are—there are lines you can't cross—"

"I won't be scolded by a teenager," Coin interjects harshly, leveling her with a steely glare. "You know nothing of war, soldier. You know nothing of how to win a war, so you don't get to read me the riot act about right and wrong. You're dismissed. Boggs, take them back up." With that, she disappears behind the door. They're all silent until Boggs sighs softly, and he touches her elbow slightly to lead her away, but she jerks away from him. She thought she could trust him, thought he was better than Coin, that he was on their side—but he didn't even speak up, he didn't object to anything; clearly, she was wrong.

Boggs seems wounded at her rejection, but the look passes quickly, and he straightens up. "Come on," he says gruffly, stalking toward the elevator. Katniss reluctantly follows him but stops when she realizes Peeta hasn't budged.

"Peeta," she says tentatively, and she pulls on his arm. He stumbles slightly and allows her to lead him to the elevator. He moves listlessly, but when the elevator doors shut, he shakes off her hand and avoids her stare.

She tries again when they're back on their floor, Boggs returning to the Weapons Room. "Peeta—"

"Don't," he grits out, holding his hand up. "I...I can't. You lied to me. I can't. This is too much right now. Just...leave me the hell alone."

He shuffles away, back to his room. Her heart sinks into her stomach with each step he takes. She knows she deserves his rejection, but it hurts all the same.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just skip all the pathetic apologizing and just go ahead and tell you I suck for not updating this as quickly as I'd hoped. But this is the last chapter, finally! I hope you find it worth the wait. Fair warning: Maybe (slight) dubious consent ahead.

Katniss is pulled into the Command Center with a few others to watch the new propo video she filmed with clone Peeta, though he's conspicuously absent from this meeting; she doesn't know if Coin didn't invite him, or if he just chose not to come. Beetee cuts into a Capitol news update on the current state of the war with the propo. Watching herself with him hurts—their hands clasped together, him still oblivious to her deception, to the truth. She doesn't bother staying through the end of the video; she leaves abruptly and returns to her shared room with Prim and her mother, then she lies in bed for a while, tying and untying knots in the piece of rope Finnick gave her a while ago.

It distracts her for a while, and she successfully ignores the schedule on her arm the rest of the day. When Prim returns for their Reflection time, Katniss finally puts the rope away, flexing her sore, red fingers. The pain feels good.

"Peeta's making pretty good progress," Prim tells her, smiling at her sister as she perches on the edge of the bed. Katniss looks at her skeptically.

"How so?"

"It's been a week since he's had an episode," she says brightly, folding her legs underneath her. "He's able to watch video of you without having any outbursts. The doctors have withheld any morphling the last two days to see how he reacts, and he's been mostly okay."

Katniss frowns, rolling onto her side to look at her sister more fully. "So he doesn't hate me anymore?"

Prim's face falls a little. "Well...he hasn't had any outbursts, but he's still kind of mad at you. Okay, a  _lot_ mad." When Katniss' face falls, Prim rushes to continue, "But I've been talking with him everyday, trying to clear your name. I think I'm slowly getting through to him. Don't worry, Katniss. This is a slow process, but we'll get there eventually." She reaches across the mattress to squeeze her sister's hand.

Katniss just sighs and rolls onto her back again to stare at the ceiling. "Yeah, sure," she mutters. So now  _both_ Peetas hate her.

Wonderful.

* * *

Katniss hasn't seen clone Peeta—she hates calling him that, but she doesn't know how else to refer to him—for a week. He hasn't sought her out, and she's too ashamed (and stubborn) to go to him. She tries to spend time with Finnick and Gale, but the former is too depressing to talk to when he starts moping about Annie, and the latter is often grouchy or too busy in the Weapons Room with Beetee. He still doesn't agree with her actions concerning Peeta. It's a moot point now, she figures.

With Prim and her mother working long hours in the hospital, Katniss grows anxious at her isolation. She's in her head too much; she feels like she's going to crawl out of her skin.

She decides to visit Peeta in the hospital. It's ludicrous, she's sure, but she doesn't know what else to do. And she wants to see for herself if Prim is right, if he's actually making progress. She doesn't want to get her hopes up, though, so she tries to keep her expectations low as she wanders into his wing of the hospital, which is mostly closed to the general public.

"Can I speak with him?" she asks the doctors hesitantly, her eyes glued to Peeta's form through the glass. He's hunched over a desk, his arms moving jerkily. The doctors talk it over quietly but then nod to her.

"He won't be restrained this time," one warns her, and she takes a deep breath before nodding her assent. They open the door for her, and she forces herself into the room. At first, Peeta throws her a disinterested glance over his shoulder before turning back around, but when it registers with him who it is, he tenses up and turns back to her slowly. His eyes are narrowed, and he regards her skeptically, but there's something missing in his expression—something that was there the last time she met with him face to face. There's no fear.

It's only a mild relief, however; there's still a resentment that masks his face, clouds the blues of his eyes. She steels her nerves as the door closes behind her, swallowing thickly, but she doesn't want him to see any weakness in her, so she schools her face into something cool and detached.

"Hi," she finally manages. His face twitches, the corner of his eye jumping slightly at the sound of her voice.

"What are you doing here?" he demands, his voice flat, almost as if he's bored by her presence. But he's still watching her.

She shrugs, trying to find her words; it takes her a moment because her throat feels so dry all of a sudden. "Um," she coughs, a little embarrassed by the betrayal of her voice. "Prim said you were doing...better. I just—I thought I'd come visit."

He snorts quietly, shaking his head just slightly. "I guess better is an improvement over raving lunatic, sure." With that, he turns back around, and the movement of his arm resumes. She picks up on the soft sound of scratching—like pencil to paper—and realizes he must be sketching.

Chewing her lip nervously, she takes a step closer. "Are you...drawing?" she tries, discreetly peering over his shoulder, but his arms and hands block whatever he's working on.

He doesn't respond right away. "Yeah," he says gruffly. "Part of my therapy."

"Does it help?"

His hand stops moving. "It's...relaxing, I guess," he admits, and then he continues drawing. A silence falls between them as Katniss struggles for what else to say. She doesn't know what's safe territory to broach with him, if she can mention the past or if she should just stay with neutral topics. She glances warily at the mirror, but she can't see anyone.

She decides to try her luck.

"You...used to draw all the time. Before, I mean—before—" she falters, feeling uncomfortable discussing his torture. She tries again, "I mean, you enjoyed it then as well. You, um...you helped me with—with my family plant book."

Peeta goes completely still as he listens to her, and she hears the uptick in his breathing; she can see the falling and rising of his back. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, bracing herself for his response—verbal  _or_ physical.

He surprises her, though. "I would...draw pictures of plants. For you. Didn't I?"

She blinks as she stares at the back of his head, her mouth pulling involuntarily into a brief smile. "Yes. After the Victory Tour. I hurt my ankle and couldn't walk for a while, so you came over to my house every day. I would describe the plants to you, and you would sketch them until they were perfect."

His head bows slightly as he takes in her words, then he drops his pencil and puts his head in his hands. His fingers thread through his disheveled curls. Finally, he heaves a frustrated sigh. "I remember, I think. It's just…" He stops and shakes his head, lifting it to stare at the wall in front of him. "The problem is I'm having a hard time deciding what's real and what's not. It's confusing."

She frowns, folding her arms across her stomach as she scuffs the toe of her boot on the ground. She's unsure what to say exactly, but she forges ahead. "Well...you can just ask Prim or Haymitch, or even my mom can help you. Or...you can ask me. If you want."

Peeta picks up his pencil again, but he just taps the eraser on the desk. "You think you can help me?" he asks, almost doubtfully.

She shrugs her shoulders even though he's not looking at her. "I don't really know, I guess. But...yes, I think I can probably help you...better than anyone else here, maybe." If most of what Snow used against him involved her, then she was the only person who could really set it straight, after all.

"You  _want_ to help me?"

She purses her lips, dropping her gaze to the ground. "I do," she replies quietly, but he hears her. He doesn't respond to that, instead dipping his head to concentrate on his picture as he resumes sketching. She watches the mild flexing of his forearm and bicep as he draws, his head tilting as he occasionally angles the paper in different directions.

She moves closer. "What are you working on?" she asks, stopping when she senses the tensing of his muscles at her proximity. She holds her breath until he relaxes, and he sighs.

"A dandelion," he mutters, and she draws back slightly, surprised.

"A..." she trails off, confused. Something inside her stirs. Why would he draw a dandelion? What could the flower even mean to him?

"I remember about the bread, Katniss," he says suddenly, startling her. Her eyes widen.

"You do?"

He turns to face her, and her breath stutters in her chest. "I remember...I remember it was raining, and you were digging in our trash behind the bakery." He stops and looks at her questioningly, as if he's seeking confirmation. She nods encouragingly, her heart starting to race. "You looked...you looked like you were dying. I thought you were going to die. So I burned some bread and threw it to you after my mom told me to feed it to the pigs."

Katniss nods again, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "That's right. I wanted to thank you the next day, for saving my life—and Prim's—but...I didn't know how. I tried to approach you after school—"

"I remember seeing you across the schoolyard," he interrupts. "You looked away and...you picked a dandelion, I think." She nods, the corner of her mouth curling just barely. Peeta looks down at his perfect rendition of a dandelion. "I guess...I guess that moment never left me. It's not shiny like the other ones."

"It never left me either," she agrees softly, a little embarrassed.

They fall quiet, Peeta avoiding looking at her. Eventually, he turns away. "I'm really tired, Katniss."

Her stomach sinks, but she nods quickly. "Right, yeah. I'll leave you alone. Um—"

"Maybe you can come back another time," he says, staring at the wall. She watches him for a moment, trying to decipher if she hears hope in his voice. She's probably imagining it.

"Yeah, I can do that," she finally says, and then she shuffles out of the room. The doctors are talking among themselves excitedly, scribbling notes down; they don't even notice her leave.

* * *

She waits a couple days before returning to him. This time, she brings her plant book from her compartment, tentatively optimistic it will spark something in Peeta's memories. He's less wary when he sees her enter his room.

"Hello," he greets cautiously, and she purses her mouth briefly to bolster her confidence.

"Hi," she says, then she gingerly holds the book out toward him. "I brought my family plant book. I thought you might want to look at it. Maybe it'll...jog your memory." In a positive way, she hopes. She only remembers good times with Peeta when they worked on the book; she's mostly confident they were similarly happy for him, too.

Furrowing his brow, he takes the book from her and sets it on his table. His hand traces the ragged edges of the cover before he flips it open; one by one, his fingers delicately skim the pages as he turns them. She watches his face closely, standing a few feet from him; sometimes, his expression contorts, recognition lighting up his eyes—sometimes, they even glaze over, and he pauses for a moment, as if recalling something extensive. He blinks and exhales heavily, and his fingertip idly outlines his sketch of a flower.

"This was the most normal thing we'd ever done together. I said that to you, didn't I? Is that real or not?"

She gives him a small smile at the memory and nods. "You did. That was real."

He taps his finger thoughtfully as he thinks, then he adds, "You were staring at me at that moment, real or not real?"

Her cheeks flood with heat as she remembers her embarrassment at having been caught, and she's embarrassed even now that he remembers. "Well, you were drawing. I was just watching you draw," she says defensively. He makes an indecipherable face and looks away, causing her to deflate. "Real," she admits grudgingly. Still, she feels compelled to add, "But you used to stare at me all the time, too. In school."

He frowns as he thinks. "Did I?" She nods, but it's unnecessary because suddenly he sits up straighter as if suddenly struck with a thought.

"In history class. I sat behind you. And to your right in math class. You always sat as close to the windows as you could. I think you paid more attention to the birds outside than the teachers."

Katniss' mouth parts in disbelief as she stares at him, and warmth pools uncomfortably in her stomach. "That's right," she murmurs. "I mean, that's where I sat. And that's...where you sat." She doesn't want to admit she was well aware of his presence then, too, but she's inexplicably happy he remembers.

Relieved, Peeta slumps back in his seat some, turning his attention back to the plant book. He flips to the last filled page, thumbing through the remaining empty ones. "Did we ever finish this?"

She shakes her head. "No, there's always more that could be added."

He looks up at her. "Well...if you want, I could help you again. It'll be good therapy for me, I think."

She bites down on her lip. "Okay," she agrees, and before she can second-guess herself, she adds, "I would like that."

* * *

She visits him often, and they spend hours pouring over the plant book. She doesn't have access to the plants in Twelve at the moment, so she describes in exhaustive detail what she can remember from memory, having him redraw each picture until he gets it right. He has to start over only occasionally. When she runs out of plants to catalogue from home, she starts adding plants from outside D13 that she gathers during her hunting trips with Gale.

Every now and then, she's left unsupervised with Peeta as the doctors and nurses take breaks or attend to more pressing concerns. She's nervous at first, only a little, to be alone with him, but she soon realizes she doesn't have to worry about him attacking her; he won't even touch her or hug her when she visits him. Their time together is still guarded, new—she feels like they're starting all over, completely relearning each other. And she supposes they are.

One day when she comes to see him, plant book in hand, he's pacing his room restlessly. She sets the book down on his desk. "What's wrong?" she asks, and he huffs, stopping in his path suddenly.

"I wish they would let me out of here once in a while," he grumbles. "I feel like a caged animal sometimes. A prisoner." His face darkens, and he flexes his fist. "Just like in the Capitol."

Katniss stiffens at his words, swallowing thickly. She doesn't know what to tell him; he still doesn't know about the clone, about the real reason he's still confined to his room. She glances at the mirror, where she knows the doctors to be watching them. "I'm not sure why they won't," she says softly, cringing internally. She hates lying to him. It feels wrong. "Maybe you can ask them—"

"I've tried," he interrupts. "They just tell me I'm still a threat to the general population." Peeta shakes his head angrily. "But I don't understand how! If I can be around you without—" He stops himself abruptly and continues pacing. Katniss stares at the mirror and makes up her mind.

"I'll talk to them. Vouch for you. If you want," she offers, looking back at him. He turns to face her and after a moment nods resolutely. Relieved to have settled the issue for the moment, she flips open the plant book. "I found a new berry we can add to the book."

* * *

The next time she visits him, she's not surprised the doctors aren't there, but she is surprised to find Peeta laid out on his bed, staring at the ceiling, unmoving. He's usually ready and waiting for her when she stops by. He doesn't move an inch when she opens the door. "Peeta?" she asks. No response. She frowns. "What's going on?"

He snorts then, his expression flickering, but he still doesn't look at her. She carefully sets the plant book down. "Okay...Should I come back another time?" She's hurt by his demeanor and apparent rejection, but she tries to rein in her reaction.

"Maybe you should just not come back, period," he replies tightly. Despite her resolve, her face blanches in shock.

"What?"

"I'm tired of people lying to me. And all you've been doing is lying to my face every single day."

The hairs on her arms stand up suddenly, and she feels a sickness settling in her stomach. She has a good guess what he's talking about, but she doesn't know how he found out so suddenly. She hasn't talked to the doctors yet; she planned to speak to Haymitch first about what to do, how to tell Peeta about his clone, how to get him out of his room. The clone is still avoiding her (and, if she's being honest, she's been avoiding him, too), but she knows he's still allowed among the general population, usually in the company of Delly, who hasn't been informed of anything, as far as Katniss knows, anyway.

She swallows the lump in her throat. "They told you about—"

"The clone," he finishes for her, his voice flat. "I can't decide if it's flattering or not that they decided to clone me. Then again, they didn't give enough of a shit about me to even try to rescue me."

Katniss begins fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, unsure where their conversation is going. On one hand, she's relieved the truth is out there now. On the other...she's scared how far this is going to set him back. "I wanted them to. Rescue you, I mean. I thought they were." Peeta scoffs, and she feels defensive. "I didn't know what they were doing. I didn't know they had cloned you, not right away—"

"But you've known for some time now, and you didn't tell me," he interjects, still staring at the ceiling. His arms are tense, folded behind his head.

She inhales deeply before answering him. "I was under orders not to—"

"Since when does Katniss Everdeen ever do anything she's told?" he asks wryly, but his tone is nastier than the playful teasing he used to do.

"I didn't know how to tell you. I was scared to," she admits, and he hums thoughtfully.

"Finally, the truth. The beloved Mockingjay, a coward. I wonder if that's the first thing out of your mouth that  _hasn't_ been a lie."

Her mouth twists into a scowl. "You have no idea what this has been like for me—"

She freezes when he sits up suddenly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and she tenses reflexively for an attack, but he just glowers at her. "You're right, I  _can't_ imagine what it's been like, living in relative safety, under the protection of an entire district, with a warm bed to sleep in, regular meals, a toilet to piss in, a shower to clean up in, no threat of daily—no,  _hourly_ , torture with doctors jamming needles into your arms repeatedly until you're hallucinating so badly you end up pissing and shitting yourself in terror and clawing the skin off your own arms and face. No, I can't imagine what it's like not having routine beatings from the prison guard and his lackeys, who take perverse pleasure in stealing your prosthetic leg and watching you crawl across your cell." He snarls at her, regarding her with disdain. "You had it so easy, the Mockingjay safe in her little underground nest. Everyone would have done  _anything_ for you."

Katniss feels sick to her stomach, her vision swirling as the details of his torture leave her lightheaded. Before now, no one has told her exactly what Snow subjected Peeta to in the Capitol. She squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to restore her equilibrium. "I didn't—I didn't know—I didn't ask them to save me and not—I told Haymitch to rescue  _you_ , not me! It should have been you! I didn't know what they were going to do."

He shakes his head. "Things worked out so well for you, though. You got saved, and you got the perfect little puppet to play out the tragic star-crossed lovers routine with. I bet you didn't have to worry about him stepping out of line and ruining the act."

Indignation swells inside her, for herself and for the clone; the three of them were all betrayed by Coin and Plutarch's actions, not just Peeta. "That isn't what I wanted," she grits out. "I just wanted  _you_. I just wanted you back, dammit."

He glares at her, his hands tightening around the edge of his mattress. "Those first few weeks before I was dropped off must have been so blissful for you, then. You, safe in your ignorance with the clone." He smirks suddenly, but it hints at something more cruel. Something sinister dances in his irises. "Tell me, did you fuck him?"

She squeaks in outrage, humiliation lodging her retort in her throat. "How  _dare_ you—"

"I take that as a yes," he says with a snort. "Did you enjoy fucking him then, my clone? Was it everything you wanted it to be? I bet he was so sweet and gentle with you."

Her face flames with hot anger. "That's none of your fucking business," she snaps, but he just laughs cruelly.

"What, was he not? Or maybe he was, and that was the problem." He narrows his eyes at her as if considering her. "I bet that's it. You don't want it sweet and gentle, do you?" She regards him warily when he stands up at that moment, but when he takes a step toward her, she doesn't move; she stays rooted to her spot, almost afraid that any sudden movements could set him off. What is he doing?

His mouth quirks into a cruel smirk as he nears her. "No, not Katniss Everdeen. You want it rough, don't you?" he says, his voice dropping an octave. Her eyes widen as a chill ratchets down her spine; she's bewildered by the confusing mix of heat and disdain in his tone.

"No," she says uneasily, because she knows it's a lie. She doesn't want to give him the satisfaction. But he's so close she can feel his body warmth, the moist heat of his breath. It's unnerving—they haven't been this close since the day he choked her.

The corner of his mouth curls up slightly. "Yeah, you do. You want to be ruined." He leans in closer, their noses almost touching. "Because you're a fucking whore."

Her body reacts before she can think, her hand slapping against his chest to push him away, but he snatches her wrist in his fist and jerks her flush against him. "Fuck you," she hisses, lifting her chin defiantly as she trembles with rage and, humiliatingly enough, excitement.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunts, keeping his voice low. His eyes flicker across the expanse of her face then down to the swells of her breasts. "You want me to fuck you right now."

"No." She tries to keep her voice firm, but she can't hedge out the waver—or the responsive throbbing in her clit.

Peeta bares his teeth slightly as his smirk widens. "You do. I can practically  _smell_ how much you want it. You want my cock inside you. You want me to fuck your pussy so hard, you can't sit right for a week," he whispers, his fingers tightening around her wrist.

Her whimper betrays her; he must hear it because the next thing she knows, he's slamming her down against the bed. She can barely let out a breath of surprise. Bending her over, he flattens her torso down on the mattress and knocks her knees apart to step between them. She's too dazed to react when she feels him tug her pants and underwear down. Once she feels the cool air hit her folds, already wet from her arousal, she gasps as realization seizes her: He's going to fuck her. Instinctively, she tries to push up, but his hand forces her down roughly.

"Don't move," he barks at her, fumbling with his own pants with his other hand. Her mouth goes slack and her eyes glaze over when she feels the head of his cock graze her pussy lips, but he doesn't push in; instead he rubs his tip up and down her slit, eliciting a strangled moan from her. "You're already wet, and I haven't done anything. You're fucking disgusting, you know that?"

She's ashamed and enraged by his accusation, and she fists the comforter in her hands. "Fuck you," she growls over her shoulder. "If you're going to fuck me, then just fuck me already."

"You want that, don't you?" he sneers, his cock slickening with her increasing lubrication. She clenches her jaw, refusing to answer him, but he won't accept that. He wraps a hand around her braid and yanks her shoulders up. "I want you to beg for my cock, Mockingjay. I want to hear you  _beg_." She shakes her head fiercely, but finds her hips straining back toward him; he jerks on her braid harder. "Say it!"

An enticing pain radiates along her scalp from the force of his grip in her hair, frustrated tears stinging her eyes, and finally she gasps out, "Please fuck me!  _Please_!"

Without warning, he slams into her so hard, he practically forces the air out of her lungs. He barely gives her any time to adjust to the intrusion before he begins thrusting violently, his pelvis whipping against the delicate flesh of her ass hard enough to fill the room with the sounds of their skin slapping together. Peeta grunts each time his cock pistons inside her, and she clenches her walls around him reflexively. Her own pathetic moans and yelps barely register in her own ears; they sound like a different person entirely, someone desperate and broken.

Releasing her hair, Peeta grabs her hips to jerk her back on his cock harder, and she muffles her cries in the mattress. It starts to hurt, the head of his cock hitting too deep inside her, and she tries to adjust her position to blunt the pain, lifting her left knee up to rest her thigh on the mattress; she has to cling to the bed so his thrusts don't force her farther up the mattress.

"Oh, fuck, you're so tight," he groans, the sound of his cock penetrating her wet folds punctuating his words. "I'm gonna come all over you, how would you like that? Or do you want it inside you? Is that what you want,  _Mockingjay_?"

His voice is mocking, but he sounds like he's about to unravel, too. She doesn't answer, burying her face and her moans in the mattress. "Fuck!" he swears loudly, his hips slamming against her ass erratically a few times before he stills, panting as he spills himself inside her, his cock pulsing against her walls. His fingers dig into her skin so hard, she's sure he's going to leave bruises. She waits quietly for him to finish, unsure of what to do. When he pulls out of her, she can feel his cum slide down her thighs, but he stumbles away from her without pulling her pants back up. They both breathe heavily, neither speaking for a moment until Peeta finally gasps, "You should leave."

Katniss squeezes her eyes shut but doesn't respond, awkwardly reaching back to adjust her clothes. Shakily, she stands up; Peeta won't look at her as he tucks himself back into his pants, turning his back to her. When she doesn't move at first, he exhales sharply. "Get out of my room, Katniss. I told you to leave. I can't—I don't want to look at you." His voice is cold, but she thinks she detects a slight quaver.

Without another word, she slips out the door. The emptiness of the next room startles her, reminding her of the doctors and nurses who are normally stationed there; no one witnessed what had happened, but she's sure his room is monitored and recorded constantly. Humiliated, she makes a beeline for her usual utility closet, curling up in a corner to hide. She begins to tremble, her eyes filling with tears, but her body still hums with need. Her clit aches, and, swallowing her shame, she slips her hand into her pants. Her fingertips slide through his semen seeping out of her before landing on her clit.

Katniss muffles her moans with her sleeve, biting down on her forearm when she finally comes.

* * *

She tries to stay away from him after that, but she remembers she left her plant book in his room. It reminds her too much of her father for her to simply leave it behind. She debates asking Haymitch or one of the doctors to retrieve it for her, but then they would want to know why she's avoiding Peeta, and she's not about to tell them anything. She's sure they know already, anyway. She won't let them think she's been damaged; who knows what kind of setback this has been for Peeta and his recovery.

So when she enters his room, she remains indifferent. Peeta barely glances at her when she appears, scribbling in some journal. She forces her shoulders back; she won't be the first to crack between the two of them.

"I need my plant book back," she says evenly, crossing her arms over her chest. He just nods and grabs it from the corner of his desk, holding it out to her without even acknowledging her. Annoyed, she grabs for it, but he holds fast. She's rooted to her spot when he finally looks at her.

"Do you want to work on it some more?" he asks. There is nothing revealing in his tone, no anger or regret. She falters, unprepared for his query.

"I—okay," she answers dumbly because what else can she do?

So they get to work. Neither of them mention what transpired between them the last time.

* * *

Katniss is making her way to her shared compartment with her mother and Prim when she's stopped dead at the sight of the clone. He's leaning against the wall beside the door of her room. She has to do a double take to make sure it's not the real Peeta, who's been looking healthier and less abused every passing day. But this Peeta in front of her doesn't have the telltale haunted look; his cheeks aren't quite as gaunt, his frame just a little more filled out.

Still, she's completely thrown by his appearance. She hasn't seen him since he asked her to leave him alone. She's not sure why he's here—or why he looks so happy to see her.

"Katniss, hey," he greets warmly, pushing off the wall to meet her as she takes cautionary steps toward her room.

"P-Peeta," she stumbles over his name, not sure how to refer to him, and her jaw drops when he pulls her into a hug.

"I've missed you. I haven't seen you in a while. You haven't come to visit me or anything." When he pulls back, he's almost pouting, but his eyes are still smiling, like he's teasing her. She's speechless as she gapes up at him, unable to process the moment. "It's like you're avoiding me."

She blinks rapidly, finally digesting his words. Is he serious? "You—told me to leave you alone. You were mad at me," she tells him bluntly, too stunned for guarded admissions.

He frowns. "Why would I do that?"

Her face twists into an expression of abject confusion, her eyebrows pinching in the middle. "You don't—you seriously don't remember?"

At that, he steps back slightly to regard her, alarm settling in the blues of his eyes. "Remember what?"

Her breaths are scarce. What is going on? "Peeta," she murmurs carefully, holding her hands up in a preemptive placating gesture. "You don't remember our discussion with Coin? What she told you about—about what you are?"

He blinks once, twice, staring down at her silently as he processes her question. She sees the exact moment his cluelessness morphs into awareness. It's horrifying. His face crumbles instantly, and he grabs at his hair. "Oh no," he gasps, rubbing his forehead. "Oh, no. I...how did I forget?"

Something is wrong, she can feel it in her gut. He stumbles backward slightly, and she reaches out to take his arm in hand. "Peeta, I think we should get you to a doctor," she urges, and he just nods, letting her lead him to the hospital wing.

She takes him to the only person she trusts: her mother.

* * *

It soon becomes apparent that the clone's condition is more dire than originally determined; he's taken out from under Mrs. Everdeen's supervision and monitored by the top-ranking doctors. Even Coin gets involved.

"What's wrong with him?" Katniss asks her mother, who gives her a solemn look.

"His mind is deteriorating."

Katniss stares at her dumbly, trying to comprehend. "But what does that mean?"

Mrs. Everdeen shakes her head. "I'm not entirely sure myself, Katniss. This kind of science and these procedures are a little beyond me. But from what I've been able to gleam of the doctors' discussions, it's...not good."

Chewing her lip, Katniss glances around the hallway thoughtfully. "Can I see him?" she asks.

"They're keeping him isolated for now, I'm afraid. But maybe you can try talking to Coin to see."

Katniss scowls immediately; the last thing she wants to do is talk to that woman, and she's sure Coin feels the same. But she's tired of the secrets. She's determined to hold Coin accountable, to be a persistent thorn in her side until she knows every little thing happening with Peeta  _and_ the clone.

She doesn't have to search her out, though; Coin summons her, Haymitch and Plutarch, as well as a few doctors and scientists to the Command Center for a confidential meeting.

"Unfortunately, it looks like test subject no. 73382 is suffering the same fate as the others," Coin begins sternly. Katniss can only guess the test subject she refers to is Peeta's clone, and she frowns at the clinical detachment of the woman's assessment. "The experiment was our most successful to date, and the process certainly lasted longer than the test subjects that preceded him, but his progress is starting to reverse. The neurons in his brain are breaking down, and he's losing his memory and thinking skills more rapidly than we initially realized."

Katniss stares at the faces of those around her. Their expressions are grim, but they lack the horror she can feel building in her chest. "What does that mean for him?" she blurts, meeting Coin's gaze head-on. The older woman is firm, unyielding.

"The clone is falling apart. The experiment was a failure, unfortunately, though it served its purpose. My recommendation is to destroy the test subject."

Katniss gasps, her stomach bottoming out. "You can't be...Destroy—you want to  _kill_ him?!"

"Whatever word you feel comfortable with," Coin replies coolly, and Katniss glances around the table wildly. No one seems particularly perturbed by this news. She looks to Haymitch.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she demands, and he regards her tiredly.

"You don't want to know what I have to say." She gawks at him, and he sighs. "He's dying, girl. That's what she's saying. It might be best if we just...put him out of his misery."

"But—" She struggles with her mounting hysteria. "How can you talk about him so cavalierly? He's—he's a  _person_! He's not just a clone! He has his own thoughts and feelings and experiences! He's not just some, some  _dog_ to put down!"

Haymitch looks away, clearly done discussing it. She wants to hurl her chair at him. Before she can launch into an impassioned plea, Coin continues, "It's just my recommendation. I thought it might be the most sensible solution, but as I can see it affects you and his friends the most, I will ultimately leave the decision up to you and the doctors."

Katniss stares helplessly at her. "Can't they do anything to help him? Can't they try to save him?"

Coin sighs, as if irritated with the discussion. "The deterioration is largely irreversible. The most they can do is try to slow down the process, make him more comfortable. I think it is a huge waste of our resources. But the doctors might want to study him some more, so as I said, as he has no next of kin, I will leave the decision to you, Soldier Everdeen." She glances around the table before adding, "I brought you here for another reason, as well. I wanted to give you an update on the war." She smiles then; it looks out of place. "We finally cracked the Nut in Two. The district is ours, and our forces have infiltrated the Capitol. As we speak, they're moving in on Snow's mansion where he is holed up. I fully expect Boggs to report back in a few days with news of a surrender."

There's excited murmurings around the room, but Katniss can hardly focus on her words. The possibility of an end to the war, the end of Snow's reign, it seems almost too ludicrous, too impossible to fathom; all she can think about is Peeta. Both of them.

* * *

Katniss is more distraught about the news than even she is prepared for. Peeta dying? It's unthinkable. He might not be the real Peeta, but he's still real to her; are all those weeks together, getting to know each other, finding comfort in him, caring about him—are they for naught? She can't accept that.

How is she supposed to let him go?

She visits him after leaving the Command Center, but he's asleep in the hospital; she waits at his bed side for a couple hours before one of the nurses finally tells her he likely won't be awake for a while. Despondent, she leaves and heads to the only other place she's felt even a modicum of happiness.

When she walks into Peeta's room, throwing a cursory look at the doctors on her way in, he greets her amicably enough. Things have been tense between them since they had sex, and neither has addressed that night or the issue. Still, his brow furrows slightly when he notices her troubled expression.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks—not quite hostile, but not with the level of warmth and compassion he had prior to his hijacking.

Stalling, she shrugs and chews on her ragged thumbnail. Should she tell him? The last time they discussed the clone hadn't gone so well—would it set him off again? She doesn't know. He seems to have made peace with the clone's existence. Wouldn't he want to know what's happening to him? That Coin might destroy him, as she so coldly said?

She can't keep things from him anymore, Katniss decides, whatever the outcome. He deserves the truth; he deserves to know everything. With a sigh, she drops her hand, her cuticles raw from the worrying of her teeth. "I...met with Coin earlier. And the doctors. The clone...your clone...he's dying." She holds her breath as she tries to gauge his reaction. There's a tick above his eyebrow.

"How?" he finally asks, and she tugs anxiously on the hem of her sleeves.

"His brain is—shutting down or something. His mind is deteriorating, and Coin says he's not going to live much longer," she whispers. "It happens to all the clones, apparently."

Peeta turns away from her. "Oh."

She wrings her hands before continuing, the words spilling out now that she started, "They want to just...destroy him, she said. Put him down like an animal—no,  _less_ than! It's...cruel. But she's leaving the decision to me, and I don't know what to do. How can I just—"

He stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back. She clamps her mouth shut as he spins around and begins pacing his room, his hands clutching at his hair. She's alarmed by the panic on his face. "Peeta?"

Shaking his head, he begins muttering to himself as he paces. "Like an animal...destroy him...kill...an animal..." Katniss stares at him, only catching pieces of his rant. She watches him helplessly at first, but then she reaches out to him to grab his arm. He ignores her, twisting out of her grip and continuing to dart back and forth along the length of the room. Undeterred, she steps toward him—unfortunately, just as he spins back around. They collide, knocking the air from her chest, and as she stumbles backward, her foot catches on his left ankle; his prosthetic gives out on him, and he pitches forward and collapses on the ground.

"Peeta!" she gasps, catching her balance before she can fall too, and she throws herself at him to help him up.

She's unprepared for his arm, which connects unexpectedly and sharply with her clavicle. This time, she hits the ground, stunned by the hit; her lungs feel compressed, like she can't breathe, and she struggles to inhale, nearly choking.

"Mutt!" he screams at her, a writhing mess of limbs as he unfurls on the ground and manages to get to his knees. At the deranged look in his eyes, she scrambles away from him, still coughing and sputtering as she tries to catch her breath. "You want to kill me! You're trying to kill me!" Katniss shakes her head fiercely and holds her hand out in a pleading gesture just as he lunges at her. The door behind her flies open, the doctors rushing in to restrain Peeta before he can tackle her. He lets out a blood-curdling howl as he fights the doctors; he gets in a good punch and nearly manages to throw them off through sheer force before they can sedate him with a needle. "She's a mutt! Get her away from me!" he wails, his frantic movements becoming lethargic as the meds quickly kick in.

Her chest finally stops seizing, and she takes a deep breath before coughing. "What happened to him?" she wheezes. "I was just—I was just trying to help him, to comfort him."

Peeta thrashes a little at the sound of her voice, his head lolling backward. The doctors still maintain a hold on him, pinning his arms and legs to the ground to prevent him from striking out again. "You must have triggered him. He's having an attack, a flashback to his torture," one doctor informs her as another starts murmuring to Peeta.

"You're okay, Peeta. You're in District 13. You're in the hospital right now. You're safe. No one here is going to hurt you. You're safe. Whatever you're imagining right now isn't real. We just want to help you."

Katniss begins to shake as the adrenaline courses through her body, and she huddles on the ground in shock. She hasn't seen him like this since his return. She knows it's always a possibility, but she still couldn't imagine him attacking her again.

Eventually, Peeta starts sobbing. Quiet, racking sobs. The doctors release him, and his body seems to deflate, sinking into the ground. "What's wrong with me?" he whimpers, his voice slurred. They try to reassure him, but he shakes his head. "Look at me. Look at what Snow's done to me.  _I'm_  the mutt. Not her. I'm the monster." His chest hitches with a gasping sob. "Coin should kill me, not the clone. Destroy me. Before I hurt someone again. I can't live like this."

His words, his desperate pleas, bring her out of her stupor. Determined, she leans forward on shaky limbs and crawls toward him. The doctors give her warning looks, but she glares them down until they step aside. At his side, she hovers over him. When he sees her, he shakes his head and tries to push away from her, but he's too weak. She takes a hold of his wrists and squeezes. "Peeta. Peeta, look at me."

"Katniss, I can't—I don't want to hurt you anymore," he cries, but she tightens her grip on him.

"You're not going to hurt me. Peeta. Peeta," she tries in vain, but he continues to resist her.

So she does the unthinkable, releasing his hands and grabbing his face to press a kiss to his lips. His body goes rigid underneath her, but she just presses her mouth against his harder, trying to convey everything to him in that simple gesture, through her lips. Once she feels his muscles relax, she pulls away. His pupils are smaller now, his eyes clearer as they focus on her. She grabs his wrists again. "Don't leave me, please," she murmurs, tears slipping down her own cheeks. "Don't let him win. Don't let him take you away from me again, Peeta."

He swallows, shaking his head slightly. She presses her forehead against his and whispers, "Stay with me."

Something flickers in his eyes, and his face softens. His cheeks glisten with his tears. "Always," he murmurs.

* * *

The doctors won't let Katniss see Peeta while he recuperates, at least not during the first 48 hours. She debates visiting the clone but is struck by a sense of betrayal, like she's deceiving Peeta by sitting with him. It's confusing and crippling, and instead she finds herself confined to her compartment, counting the tiles on the ceiling from her prone position in her bed.

Prim attempts to rouse her from her nearly comatose state.

"Katniss, this isn't like you," she chides, and Katniss releases a small sigh.

"I don't know what to do, Prim," she says. "Everything is falling apart."

Her sister leans over her on the bed and pushes some hair off her forehead. "I know it must seem like that, but it's not so bad. I think things are actually getting better. They think the war will be over, at least, and that's good news, isn't it?"

Katniss closes her eyes. "Maybe that's where I should be. In the Capitol, on the frontlines. Fighting Snow." She tries to picture it, firing an arrow right through his heart. It gives her satisfaction to imagine killing him. This is his fault. He did this to Peeta. To all of them. He needs to pay for it. "Maybe Coin will send me if I ask. She hates me, anyway."

"But then who would take care of Peeta?" Prim asks, and Katniss opens her eyes again to look at the ceiling.

"He needs doctors, not me. I only seem to make things worse. You can help him, Prim."

"And the other? What about him?" Prim insists, her voice soft like her touch. "He doesn't have anyone, Katniss. He's sick and alone. He needs you."

Unexpectedly, tears fill Katniss' eyes, and she swallows past the growing lump in her throat. "He's dying, Prim. It's too painful..."

Prim drops her hand to her sister's shoulder and squeezes. "So, don't let him die alone."

* * *

Screwing up her resolve, Katniss goes to the clone's hospital room. He's awake. She nearly loses her nerve, but he sees her and smiles wanly. "Hey," he says, his voice hoarse. She quirks a nervous smile at him as she moves closer, settling into a seat beside him.

"Hi, yourself. How are you feeling?" It's a dumb question, but she's never been good at small talk. The clone gives her a wry smile.

"I feel like I'm dying," he answers honestly, and her face pales. But he chuckles at her expression. "Sorry. Bad joke."

She licks her dry lips, her eyes wide. "They...told you what was happening?"

He nods. "Guess you can't really keep something like this a secret."

She is seized by a sudden rush of fear and affection, and she leans over the bed to grab his hand. "I'm going to talk to the doctors. See what they can do for you, buy you more time—"

"Katniss," he interrupts, giving her hand a squeeze. "There's no point."

She falls quiet as she stares at him, and he smiles again, though there's a sadness behind his eyes. "They told me my options, the doctors. I don't see a point in prolonging the inevitable."

Her eyes go wide. "What exactly are you saying?" she asks slowly, and he exhales tiredly.

"I'm going to tell them to pull the plug."

Her heart sinks. "Peeta, no—"

He squeezes her hand tightly. "Katniss. It's what I want. I'm not supposed to be here. There's no purpose for me any more." His face tightens. "I'm not real."

She's oblivious to the tears spilling down her cheeks suddenly, and she gasps quietly. "Don't say that. It was real for me."

He smiles again, ruefully. "Me, too."

Releasing his hand, she crawls into his bed and curls herself around him. He wraps his arms around her as he inhales shakily. "Maybe you can stay with me a little while?" he asks, and she nods, swiping at her tears.

"Of course."

They talk sporadically for the next couple of hours, but mostly they're silent. She starts to drift off until his voice brings her back.

"Katniss, do you know if my family's coming by to see me soon?"

She opens her eyes and stares at the wall across the room, a sick feeling twisting her stomach. After a moment, she nods. "Yeah, Peeta. They'll be by soon." It seems cruel to remind him of the truth.

"Good. I'd really like to see my brothers again."

She clings to him tighter then, dreading the moment she'll have to let him go.

* * *

The clone dies a couple days later, the same day the war ends. Katniss isn't with him when it happens; she can't bring herself to watch him die. Haymitch is the one to deliver the news to her.

"It's done," he tells her solemnly, stopping by her compartment. She nods stoically. "And Snow finally surrendered. The rebels won." Again, she just nods. He leaves her be after that.

Over the next few days, she gets more information about the final days of the war, the fight in the Capitol. The rebels rescued the remaining imprisoned victors: Johanna, Annie and Enobaria. Even Effie was spared execution. Finnick is beyond over the moon once the prisoners arrive in Thirteen on a hovercraft. He doesn't leave Annie's side for a second. For Katniss, it's painful to watch.

Gale wasn't in the infantry or even on the ground, but he and Beetee were the point men on the weapons. Soon after the war ends, he approaches her with disturbing news.

"I think they used my snare bomb in the Capitol," he says.

"Good for you," she tells him flatly, though she's not sure what kind of reaction he's looking for. Gale sighs, frustrated, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, you don't understand. Beetee and I designed it for use in battle, specifically in Two on the Nut. It's supposed to be used only on those directly involved in the fighting." She stares at him, waiting for him to continue. "I talked to Boggs when he got back. He was out there. He was really shaken up; he saw a Capitol hovercraft drop bombs on the children surrounding Snow's mansion. He was using them as a shield." A fresh sense of horror slowly sets in, but Gale continues, "Even worse than that, rebel and Capitol medics who rushed in to help the survivors got caught in the second explosion." His face is grave. "It was a massacre, Katniss. Of innocent civilians. Of  _children_."

The news is too much. "But—I'm confused. You said a Capitol hovercraft dropped the bombs—"

Gale looks around warily before leaning in closer to her. "Thirteen has the same hovercrafts, Katniss. Boggs told me it didn't make any sense to him—if it was a Capitol hovercraft, why hadn't Snow used it to escape?" He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "It was my design, Katniss. I know it. I  _know_ my design. There's no way Snow had it, too."

Katniss mulls it over, her eyes darting around. "I mean...you really think Coin would have..." Gale doesn't answer, looking away as his eyebrows furrow. She considers her own question, thinking back on all the things she knows about Coin, all the things that woman has done in the name of the rebellion, the revolution—so many despicable things. It all makes perfect sense to her. "She would," she whispers to herself, narrowing her eyes as anger solidifies in her gut.

* * *

Coin gathers up the surviving victors for a meeting a week later. They're brought to the Capitol, to Snow's mansion specifically, and directed to the strategy room. The three who were left in the Capitol look weak and severely abused but better than the day they first arrived. Finnick doesn't let go of Annie the entire time, and Johanna and Enobaria sit quietly, simmering with rage and bitterness. Peeta is there. He looks healthier, more clear-minded than the day he attacked her in his room, but he won't quite meet her eyes when she looks across the table at him; they dart away every time hers lock with his.

Her heart hurts.

Katniss isn't sure what she's expecting in the meeting, though she has some idea it concerns Snow's scheduled execution. Does Coin remember their previous agreement? Will she let Katniss have the satisfaction of ending his life? She flexes her hand, already imagining the final shot as she releases the arrow.

With the victors gathered, Coin doesn't waste any time. "I've asked you all here to settle a debate. As you might already know, today we will execute Snow. While his accomplices have been tried and await their own deaths, a lot of people still feel the suffering in the districts has been so extreme that these measures seem insufficient to the victims. Many are calling for the complete annihilation of all those in the Capitol. But I don't think that would be in our best interest if we hope to maintain a sustainable population." She pauses to look around the table. No one speaks, waiting for her point.

"So, an alternative has been placed on the table. My colleagues and I have decided to leave it up to you all, the surviving victors. A majority of five will decide the vote; however, in the event of a tie, I will be the deciding vote. No one may abstain from the vote," Coin explains. "Is that satisfactory?" She waits for approval; some shrug, some mumble their acquiescence, some stay silent. She continues, "What has been proposed is a final, symbolic Hunger Games, using the children related to those who held the most power."

No one moves. Johanna is the first to speak. "What?"

Coin looks directly at her. "We hold another Hunger Games using Capitol children," she reiterates.

"Are you joking?" Peeta practically sputters. Katniss looks to him, not sure if she's more stunned by Coin's news or just how much like himself, the old him, Peeta sounds in that moment.

"No," she replies simply.

"Was this Plutarch's idea?" Haymitch asks, watching her with narrowed eyes.

"It was mine," Coin says. "It seemed to balance the need for vengeance with the least loss of life. You may cast your vote now."

"No!" Peeta bursts out. "No, absolutely not! My vote is no! We can't have another Hunger Games! Are you insane?"

"I say yes," Johanna spits out. "Let them have a taste of their own medicine for once. I think Snow even has a granddaughter."

"Jo," Finnick murmurs reproachfully. "How can you think like that?"

She glares at him so hatefully, Katniss feels her own blood run cold. "I just spent the last few months being tortured and raped in the Capitol. Don't you dare judge me like that, Finn—don't you dare."

He clamps his mouth shut, his eyes sad and tortured, but he shakes his head and looks to Coin. "I vote no. It's not right."

"I'm with Finnick," Annie speaks up, her voice small and shaky, before burying her face in his shoulder. He pulls her under his arm.

"I agree with Johanna," Enobaria bites out. "They deserve it."

"But this is why we rebelled," Peeta argues, looking around wildly.

Beetee nods. "He's right. I vote no. It would set a bad precedent. We have to stop killing each other. We have to stop viewing each other as enemies."

"So that leaves Katniss and Haymitch," Coin surmises.

Katniss can't believe this is what it's come to. Is this really happening? Are they all really sitting around debating the next Hunger Games? After everything? After all the pain and misery of the last few months? Of the last 75 years? Is this how it went down all that time ago, when they decided on the first games, she wonders?

Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change, not like this. These people are no different. Coin is no different. How much more pain will she inflict on the people of this country?

Katniss thinks about the children killed in the snare bomb, the unsuspecting medics who came to their aid also to be blown up. Prim could have easily been among that group, she realizes in horror; her 14-year-old sister, who always puts those hurting before herself, could have been sent out with those rebel medics to die had she not been so hard at work on healing Peeta.

The thought makes her sick. It makes her angry.

But also strangely calm, as resolve courses in her veins. She weighs her options and realizes what she must do. Taking a deep breath, she keeps her eyes on the table and says, "I vote yes. For them, all the tributes and all the people who've been killed."  _For him_ , she adds mentally. This time, she's the one who can't meet Peeta's eyes.

"Haymitch?" Coin asks. Katniss can feel his stare on her, and she meets his eyes. This is it. Will he understand? Will he prove just how similar the two of them really are? Peeta yells at Haymitch, trying to reason with him, but Haymitch doesn't seem to be listening.

"I'm with the Mockingjay," he says finally.

"Which makes for a tie, in which case, I will cast a vote. And I vote yes," Coin says, clapping her hands as if to settle the debate. "Now, we must take our places for Snow's execution. Katniss, I remember our deal. In a show of good faith, I've saved him for you. We'll take you to get ready now."

She dismisses them, directing the victors out of the room. Before Katniss can exit through the door, she feels a hand on her upper arm, jerking her around. Peeta. His expression is wounded; there is hurt and anger and confusion there. "Katniss, how could you vote yes?" he demands, his tone accusing.

Before she can second-guess herself, she flings her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. For herself, but also to divert suspicions. Peeta stiffens in surprise but doesn't pull away. "Katniss—" he starts, alarmed, but she cuts him off.

"Trust me," she whispers in his ear, squeezing his shoulders for emphasis before she lets go. She locks eyes with him, willing him to understand. Then she steps away, looking to Coin who waits for her. Coin nods her head and leaves the room. Katniss casts one last glance at Peeta before she leaves; he watches her go, bewildered and speechless.

After they've outfitted her in her Mockingjay garb and given her the bow and a single arrow, she takes her place on the front terrace of the mansion, before the crowd in the City Circle. The other victors surround her. Coin is already on the balcony above; Snow is marched out a moment later, and the audience erupts with jeers. He's tied up only yards away from her. He looks so small and fragile, nothing like the frightening, imposing snake of a man she met so many times before. She almost feels sorry for him. Almost. Weren't they both played for fools by Coin?

Katniss draws her bow and aims it at Snow. He coughs, blood trickling down his chin. He's practically dead already. But at that moment, he seems to be smiling at her. She tries to communicate with him one last time with her eyes:  _This ends here._

With that, she tips her bow upward and releases the arrow, right into Coin's heart. The woman pitches forward over the balcony, hitting the ground below. The crowd loses it as the thud of body hitting concrete reverberates through the City Circle, screams and shouts filling the air. Snow starts laughing, choking on his own blood; that's the last Katniss hears of him before he disappears in the writhing mass of bodies.

Katniss sees the guards converging on her, and she drops her bow to the ground, closing her eyes to brace herself for an assault or an arrest, whatever awaits her. She's spun around suddenly and finds herself face to face with Peeta again, but she's already being pulled away violently, yanked from his grasp, and all she can make out is the confusion on his face.

"I had to do it!" she yells over the crowd before the guards can jerk her around and carry her into the mansion.  _Please understand._   _Please don't hate me,_  she thinks. They handcuff and blindfold her then drag her down long hallways, up and down elevators, until they enclose her in her old room in the Training Center. She's alone.

All she can do is wait.

* * *

She's not sure how long she's there; there's no real way to keep track of the days, aside from the periodic visits from her mother and sister. Only family is allowed to see her; they inform her they're holding a trial to determine her fate for the assassination of President Coin. Katniss wonders why they don't just hang her, why all the production of a media circus just for her trial.

"Plutarch was named the communications secretary; it was his idea to televise the trial," her mother tells her.

"Oh," Katniss says. Suddenly, it makes sense. She worries she'll be paraded out in front of the cameras again, but her mother assures her they won't do that.

"He's trying to help you, Katniss. They're arguing that you're mentally unstable and unfit to stand trial; they say that's why you did it," Mrs. Everdeen says gently.

It's funny, Katniss thinks. They branded her mentally unstable as soon as she arrived in Thirteen, but now she feels more lucid than ever. She absently rubs the spot on her wrist where the medical bracelet used to rest during her earlier days in D13.

"Why did you do it, Katniss?" Prim asks reproachfully.

Katniss frowns. "Coin wanted another Hunger Games. She had all the surviving victors vote on it. It was never going to stop—don't you see?"

Both her mom and Prim look horrified at the news; had that fact not been revealed to the public yet? Had it not come out in the trial? She supposes it wouldn't, if Plutarch had anything to do with it. If the public knew Coin's real intentions, their support for the rebellion might crumble; they might start to doubt the new regime.

"That's awful," Prim whispers, curling up under Katniss' arm.

"I know. She was no better than Snow..." Maybe worse. At least Snow didn't try to hide who he was, what he was doing.

Her mother speaks up after a moment of silence, "They elected a new president. Paylor. She doesn't seem as bad."

Katniss mulls it over, trying to recall what little she knew of the woman from their brief encounters. Finally, she nods. "I think that's a better choice."

They sit for a little while longer; she wants to ask about Peeta, and Gale and Finnick and the rest, but she bites her tongue. Briefly, she wonders if she'll get the chance to say goodbye to any of them should they find her guilty.

She's grateful for the visits with her family, at least. When they're not there, her thoughts are consumed by Peeta. And the clone. And she thinks about how he's gone now, and it hurts. She misses him.

And she misses Peeta. Does he understand what she did? Does he think her as unhinged as the rest of them? Can he forgive her? She's not sure she wants to know the answer.

* * *

One day, her door opens unexpectedly; it's Haymitch.

"Let's go, sweetheart," he rasps. "Time to go home."

Confused, she blinks and stands up from her bed. "Home? What happened with the trial?"

He smirks humorlessly. "You're free to go. Found not guilty by reason of insanity. You can thank me later, though. But until we get out of the Capitol, you might want to play up the crazy, though, just a little."

"Do they know why I did it?" she asks, deadpanned, and he raises his eyebrows.

"Of course not. Plutarch and Dr. Aurelius just convinced the jury you'd lost your mind, a result of your trauma from the games and the war. PTSD and all that," he says drily as she follows him out of the room and out of the Training Center. There's a small crowd waiting for her at the hovercraft. Her mother and Prim hug her happily, tears in their eyes. Katniss is happy to see Gale, Finnick and Annie, as well.

Peeta is suspiciously absent.

Gale tells her he's going to District 2 to help set up the new government, with the promise to visit. Finnick and Annie will return to Four once Annie's been cleared by the doctors. They tell her Johanna is undergoing treatment as well.

After she bids them goodbye, she boards the hovercraft with her family and Haymitch. Plutarch is already on board. She tunes him out as he rambles incessantly about the trial and what comes next—until he gets to the part about starting a new singing competition and asks her if she would like to participate. At her death glare, he titters.

"Just keep it in mind, dear!"

Katniss is surprised there's anything to return to in Twelve; she says as much to Haymitch, who tells her that a couple hundred refugees left Thirteen and returned to rebuild. "I hope you're not planning on going anywhere else; you're confined to Twelve for the foreseeable future, as part of the terms of your release," he says. She shrugs. Where else would she go, anyway?

Finally, she asks the question that's plagued her. "Where's Peeta?" she inquires tentatively.

"Still in the Capitol. He can't leave until he's been cleared by the doctors. If he decides to leave at all," Haymitch answers.

Katniss wouldn't blame him if he decides not to. What does he have to return to in Twelve? His family and friends are dead. She ignores the voice in the back of her head telling her,  _Me. What about me?_

Once in Twelve, despite having seen it before, Katniss is stunned by all the destruction. All that really stands is the Victor's Village and some hollowed out buildings here and there. She sees makeshift houses that some residents have constructed while they rebuild. She just doesn't know how they can start over after everything, after they've lost everything.

Can things ever be good again?

Even though she has her mother and sister, Katniss finds herself holed up in her room most days. The weather is dreary and miserable as winter rages on, and she finds herself sinking into depression now that all she has to do is think. Prim tries to rouse her, but even her efforts are mostly useless.

She's heartsick, and she's not sure what can pull her out of the recesses of her dark thoughts. Sometimes, she thinks they should have just hanged her, but then she thinks of Prim and feels guilty. Her sister has already lost so much...

She wakes up in the late afternoon one day to the sound of her bedroom door opening, but she doesn't turn over. Instead she burrows deeper under the covers, anticipating the voice of Prim or her mother, encouraging her to eat or come downstairs. She nearly slips back into unconsciousness when she suddenly feels the bed shift and a solid body press up against her back, pulling her into a warm embrace. Her eyes flutter open, and she immediately tears up, already recognizing the arms she grew so accustomed to all those nights in the games, on the train. Even in Thirteen.

"Peeta," she croaks, twisting around to face him. She nearly breaks as she lays her eyes on his face for the first time in months. He looks fresh and beautiful and finally like himself.

"Hey," he says softly, hesitantly but with the kind of warmth she remembers. "I just got back. Dr. Aurelius finally cleared me yesterday. Prim let me in. I hope that's okay. She said you weren't doing so well..."

The corners of her eyes leak, and she presses her lips into a thin line as she stares up at him. His hand reaches up to smooth her hair back. She doesn't know what to tell him first.  _I missed you. I miss him. I feel so lost._ Wordlessly, she buries her face in the crook of his neck, clinging to his shirt, and he wraps his arms around her again. They lie like that for a moment until he breaks the silence.

"You loved him. Real or not real?"

His question isn't accusatory; it isn't hostile or sad, just curious, but she tenses nonetheless as she struggles to answer. She wants to tell him why— _because he was you, because I thought he was you, because he was everything good about you—_ but she stops herself. It seems like a disservice to his memory to try to justify her feelings. So she just tells Peeta the truth. "Real," she whispers. He lifts her head some, tipping her chin up to look at him.

"So tell me about him."

At that, Katniss finally manages to smile.


End file.
